


Book Three: The Prisoners of Azkaban

by Chasingstardust22



Series: Hiccup Haddock [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Abuse/Mentions of Abuse, Minor Violence, Swearing, Updates on Mondays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 125,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chasingstardust22/pseuds/Chasingstardust22
Summary: "He's at Berk...He's at Berk..."Hiccup Haddock is in danger. Alvin the Treacherous, a man so evil they say he killed his own daughter, has escaped from the dreaded Viking prison of Azkaban. Hiccup's triumph over the Dragon Lord ruined Alvin's life, and now they say he is out for revenge.That isn't the only bad thing, though. The guards of Azkaban have come to Berk, and their mere presence can drain anyone of their happiness. A dragon in Gobber's care may get executed by the Dragon Ministry. And Hiccup dreams of a girl, a girl he has never met, and yet is achingly familiar.One thing is certain—there's far more to this than meets the eye. There may still be a traitor...question is, who?





	1. Terrible Terror Post

**Happy Birthday to Harry Potter and Queen JK Rowling! Perfect day to upload Book Three, eh?**

**I have to be honest with you guys; Chamber of Secrets may be my personal favorite of the original series, but in THIS series, Book Three is my absolute favorite. A few of my original readers might recall why this is (no spoiling the surprise, you lot, I'm counting on you for this)**

**For this book, I have a bit of advice that I'll need you to remember, specifically around the halfway point:**

**_Never count someone dead until you see their body right in front of you._ **

**You'll see why that's important soon enough.**

**Disclaimer: I, Chasingstardust22, do not own Harry Potter or any of its copyrighted characters. I also do not own How To Train Your Dragon or any of its copyrighted characters. I make no money off of this project, nor do I want to. All rights go to the respective owners, and please, please go read/watch the original source material, because it's so much better than anything I could write.**

**So let's get started. This is Book Three: The Prisoners of Azkaban.**

* * *

****_Chapter One: Terrible Terror Post_

* * *

Hiccup Haddock was a very unusual boy. Anyone who had ever met him could vouch for that. For one thing, the summer holidays were his very least favorite time of year. For another, he actually  _ wanted _ to do his homework, but was forced to do it in the dead of night, when his relatives wouldn't find out.

Oh, and he also happened to be a Viking.

Well, he wasn't a Viking in the  _ historic _ sense. The Vikings of old were dead and gone. No, in his world, the term Viking (or Valkyrie, which was the female equivalent) meant a magical warrior able to bond with dragons.

It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the tattered and burned blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, an enchanted torch in one hand, and an eagle-feather quill in the other. A large, leather-bound book ( _ A History of Dragons, _ by Baggyeyes the Historian) was propped open against the pillow. Hiccup moved the tip of the quill down the page, muttering under his breath as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, "‘Witch’ Burnings in the Fourteenth Century Were Completely And Utterly Pointless—Discuss".

The quill paused at the top of a likely-looking paragraph. Hiccup moved his torch closer to the book and read:

_ Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but they weren't very good at recognizing it, often referring to Viking and Valkyries as 'witches'. On the rare occasion that they  _ did  _ catch a real Viking or Valkyrie, burning had no effect whatsoever. The Viking or Valkyrie would perform a basic bit of Fire Magic and pretend to shriek with pain, all the while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Kaja the Peculiar enjoyed the feeling so much that she allowed herself to be caught no fewer than forty-seven times, in various disguises. _

With difficulty, Hiccup suppressed a laugh. He placed the quill between his teeth and reached underneath his pillow for his ink bottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and very carefully he unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped his quill into it and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dalvors heard the scratching of his quill on their way to the bathroom, he would most likely find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

The Dalvor family of number four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Hiccup never enjoyed his summer holidays. Uncle Björn, Aunt SkaÐi and their overindulged son, Balder, were Hiccup's only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude towards magic. Hiccup's dead parents, who had been a Viking and Valkyrie themselves, were never mentioned under the Dalvor's roof. For years, Aunt SkaÐi and Uncle Björn had hoped that if they kept Hiccup as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him. To their fury, they had been unsuccessful. Now they lived in a constant state of terror that someone might find out that Hiccup had spent most of the last two years at the Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries. The most the Dalvors could do these days, however, was lock away Hiccup's spellbooks, crystal eye, sword, cauldron and saddle at the start of the summer holidays, and forbid him to talk to any of the neighbors.

This separation from his spellbooks had been a real problem for Hiccup, because his teachers at Berk had given him a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about Shrinking Potions, was for Hiccup's least favorite teacher, Asketill the Harsh, who would be delighted to have an excuse for giving Hiccup detention for a month. Hiccup had therefore seized his chance in the first week of the holidays. Whilst Uncle Björn, Aunt SkaÐi and Balder had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Björn's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too), Hiccup had crept downstairs, picked the lock, grabbed as many of his books as he could, and carried them up to his bedroom. As long as he was quiet, and didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dalvors need never know that he was studying magic by night.

Hiccup was keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in a bad mood with him, all because he'd received a telephone call from a fellow magical warrior one week into the school holidays.

Astrid Hofferson, who was Hiccup's best friend and not-so-secret crush, came from a whole family of Vikings. In fact, it was one of her older brothers who had taught Hiccup how to pick locks. This meant she knew a lot of things Hiccup didn't. However, she knew very little about Muggle technology, and that included using a telephone. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Björn who had answered the call.

"Björn Dalvor speaking."

Hiccup had happened to be in the room at the time, and he had nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Astrid's voice answer.

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I—WANT—TO—TALK—TO—HICCUP!"

If there was one thing Hiccup could say he admired about Astrid (and he had quite the list to choose from), it was that she certainly knew how to make herself heard. She spoke so loudly that Uncle Björn jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm.

Hiccup looked at Balder, who was sitting on the sofa playing a violent video game. He stopped and stared at Hiccup with a look of bewilderment. Hiccup wasn't sure if he was stunned by the fact that  _ someone _ had phoned up to talk to him, or the fact that it was  _ girl _ (with extremely loud vocal cords, no less) who wanted to talk to him.

"WHO IS THIS?" Uncle Björn roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"ASTRID—HOFFERSON!" Astrid bellowed back, as though she and Uncle Björn were speaking from opposite ends of a football field. "A—FRIEND—OF—HICCUP'S—FROM—BERK—"

Hiccup had been hoping she wouldn’t mention Berk.

Uncle Björn's small eyes swiveled around to Hiccup, who was rooted to the spot.

"NEVER CONTACT ME OR MY FAMILY AGAIN, YOU DAMN FREAK!" he roared, loud enough to stun even Astrid. Then he threw the telephone back onto the receiver as if dropping a fireworm.

The screaming match that had followed had been one of the worst ever, even considering Hiccup's record.

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE—PEOPLE LIKE  _ YOU _ ?!" Uncle Björn had roared, spraying him with spit, before aiming a punch at his face. Hiccup had only just managed to dodge in time.

Astrid obviously realized that she'd gotten Hiccup into trouble, because she hadn't called again. Hiccup's other best friend, Ragnar Wicket, hadn't been in touch either. Hiccup suspected that Astrid had warned Ragnar not to call, which was a pity, because Ragnar, the cleverest Viking in Hiccup's year, had a Muggle mother, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense to not say that he went to Berk.

So Hiccup had had no word from any of his Viking friends for five long weeks. This summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one, when the Dalvors had locked him in his own room like a prisoner of war. There was only one, very small improvement: after swearing that he wouldn't use them to send letters to any of his friends, Hiccup had been allowed to let his Terrible Terrors, Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter (who had been his father's dragon first), out at night. He strongly suspected that Uncle Björn had only given in because of the racket the two made if they were locked in a cage together all of the time.

Hiccup finished writing about Kaja the Peculiar and paused to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of his enormous cousin, Balder.  _ It must be very late _ , Hiccup thought, his eyes itching with tiredness. Perhaps he'd finish this essay tomorrow night…

He replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed; put the torch,  _ A History of Dragons _ , his essay, quill and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed. Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table.

It was one o'clock in the morning. Hiccup's stomach gave a funny jolt. He had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for an entire hour.

Yet another unusual thing about Hiccup was how little he looked forward to his birthdays. He had never received a birthday card in his life. The Dalvors usually ignored his birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one.

Hiccup walked across the dark room, past Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter's large, empty cage, to open the window. He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets. Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter had been absent for two nights now. Hiccup wasn't worried about them—they'd been gone this long before—but he hoped they would be back soon; Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter were the only living creatures in this house that didn't flinch at the sight of him.

Hiccup, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His auburn hair, however, was just as it always had been: shaggy and parting to the right, no matter what anyone did to it. His eyes were emerald green, his face was covered with freckles, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, distinctly shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Of all the unusual things about Hiccup, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dalvors had pretended for almost ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Hiccup's parents, because Stoick the Vast and Valka the Gentle had not died in a car crash. They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Viking tyrant of all time, Drago Bludvist. Hiccup had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than the scar on his forehead, where Drago's curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Drago had fled…

But Hiccup had come face to face with him at Berk. Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Hiccup had to admit he was lucky to have even reached his thirteenth birthday.

He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter, perhaps soaring back to him with a large amount of dead fish in their mouths, expecting praise before he ate. Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Hiccup realized what he was seeing.

Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Hiccup's direction. He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second, he hesitated, his hand on the window-latch, wondering whether to slam it shut, but then the bizarre creature soared over one of the streetlamps of Privet Drive, and Hiccup, realizing what it was, leapt aside.

Through the window soared four Terrible Terrors. Two of them were holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft  _ flump _ on Hiccup's bed and the third Terrible Terror, which was large with faded black scales, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.

Hiccup recognized the unconscious Terrible Terror at once—her name was Everwild, and she belonged to the Hofferson family. Hiccup dashed to the bed at once, untied the cords around Everwild's leg, took off the parchment and then carried Everwild to Sharpshot's cage. Everwild opened one bleary eye and stared at him.

_ "T-thank you,"  _ she managed, before gulping down some water.

Hiccup turned back to the remaining Terrible Terrors. One of them, the green and brown scaled one, was his own Sharpshot. He, too, was carrying a parcel, and he looked extremely pleased with himself. He gave Hiccup an affectionate nuzzle as he removed his burden, and then flew across the room to join Everwild.

The second one, which had bright red scales, was Blood-Spatter. He was carrying three Icelandic Cod in his mouth, and he lowered them onto Hiccup's pillow.

Well, that was dinner alright. It was his favorite!

Hiccup didn't recognize the fourth Terrible Terror, a handsome gold-scaled one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third parcel, it was carrying a letter bearing the Berk crest. When Hiccup relived this Terrible Terror of its burden, it licked its own eyeball with its forked tongue, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night.

After quickly scarfing down the fish, Hiccup sat down on his bed. He grabbed Everwild's package, ripped off the brown paper and discovered a present wrapped in faded green fabric, and his first ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fluttered out—a letter, and a newspaper cutting.

The cutting had clearly come out of the Viking newspaper, the  _ Daily Prophet _ , because the people in the black and white picture were moving. Hiccup picked up the cutting, smoothed it out and read:

_ DRAGON MINISTRY EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE _

_ Bjartr the Tinkering, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Dragon Ministry, has won the annual  _ Daily Prophet  _ Grand Prize Galleon Draw. _

_ A delighted Bjartr told the  _ Daily Prophet,  _ "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday at Outcast Island, where our eldest son, Hakon the Discoverer, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Viking Bank." _

_ The Hofferson family will be spending a month at Outcast Island, returning for the start of the new school year at Berk, which five of the Hofferson children currently attend. _

Hiccup scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Hoffersons waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large mountain. Plump little Mrs. Hofferson, tall, balding Mr Hofferson, six sons and one daughter, all (though the black and white picture didn't show it) with golden blond hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Astrid, as beautiful as ever, with her pet rat, Scabbard, on her shoulder and her arm around her little brother, Egill.

Hiccup couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Hoffersons, who were very nice and extremely poor. He picked up Astrid's letter and unfolded it.

**_Dear Hiccup,_ **

**_Happy birthday!_ **

**_Look, I'm_ ** **_really_ ** **_sorry about that telephone call. Dad says I probably shouldn’t have shouted. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time for it…and if they did, let me know; the twins and I'll rescue you all over again, damn the consequences._ **

**_It's absolutely incredible here. Hakon's taken us round all the island and you wouldn't_ ** **_believe_ ** **_the weapons the outcasts used. Mum wouldn't let Egill visit the dungeons, where the vilest Vikings and Valkyries were held. It was basically a wasteland full of bones (dragon, human, and Odin knows what else), with some lovely blood smears on the walls. I still say the Forbidden Forest is scarier, but whatever._ **

**_Oh, speaking of Berk, here’s something I’ll bet you didn’t know: Slytherin the Cunning was originally from Outcast Island. That certainly explains a few things._ **

**_I couldn't believe it when Dad won the_ ** **Daily Prophet** **_Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of its gone on this holiday, but it’ll be nice to have a little extra money in the vault for once._ **

**_We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get our new books. Is there any chance of meeting you there?_ **

**_Don’t let the Muggles get you down!_ **

**_Try and come to London,_ **

**_—Astrid_ **

**_P.S: Askeladden's Head Boy. He got the letter last week, and he won't shut up about it. Please send me words of encouragement so that I do not "accidentally" lock him in the dungeon._ **

Chuckling, Hiccup glanced at the photograph. Askeladden, who was in his seventh and final year at Berk, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to his fur cape, which was stretched tight around his buff shoulders.

Hiccup now turned to his present and opened it. Inside was what looked like miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Astrid beneath it.

**_Hiccup—this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Hakon says its rubbish sold for Viking tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize that Double and Trouble had put beetles in his soup, so make of that what you will._ **

**_With love,_ **

**_Astrid_ **

Hiccup placed the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He smiled at it for a few seconds, and then picked up the parcel Sharpshot had brought.

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card and a letter, this time from Ragnar.

_ Dear Hiccup, _

_ Astrid wrote to me and told me about her phone call to your Uncle Björn. I hope you're all right, and when I see her next I'll try and explain the proper way to use a telephone. _

_Anyway, I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you—it would have taken a_ _lot_ _of explaining if they'd opened it at Customs—but then Sharpshot turned up out of blue! I think he wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for once. I bought your present by Terrible Terror-order; there was an advertisement in the_ Daily Prophet _(I've been getting it delivered, so that I can keep up with what's going on in the Viking world)._ _Did you see that picture of Astrid and her family a week ago? I'm really jealous—I've always wanted to see Outcast Island._

_ There's some interesting local history of Viking kind here, too. If I'd had to put all this stuff into my essay, it would’ve been two rolls of parchment longer than it already is…Yes, I know I’m a nerd. Astrid already made sure to tell me this. _

_ (My Mum just walked in. She wanted me to tell you she says hi) _

_ Astrid says she's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Berk Express on September the first! _

_ Ragnar _

_ P.S. Astrid says Askeladden's Head Boy. I'll bet Askeladden's really pleased. Astrid doesn't seem too happy about it. _

Hiccup chuckled again as he put Ragnar's letter aside and picked up his present. It was very heavy. Knowing Ragnar, he was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult attacks—but it wasn't. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case with silver words stamped across it:  _ Saddle Servicing Kit. _

"Wow, Ragnar!" Hiccup whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Polish, a small silver brush, a tiny brass compass to clip onto your saddle for long journeys, and a  _ Handbook of Do-it-Yourself Saddlecare. _

Apart from his friends, the thing that Hiccup missed most about Berk was Dragon Racing, the most popular sport in the magical world—highly dangerous, very exciting and played on the back of dragons. He missed riding on his dragon, Toothless, around Berk. Toothless was the rarest kind of dragon around in the entire world, a Night Fury; he was super-fast even without a saddle to boost his speed.

Hiccup put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Gobber the Belch, the Forge Master of Berk. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something red and leathery, but when he picked it up it emitted that pleasant feeling he associated with flames. He looked back down at the book and on its handsome red cover, emblazoned with the golden title,  _ The Art of the Master Forger _ .

"Awesome," Hiccup muttered, running his forefinger across the words.

He'd almost forgotten that he'd be taking Forge classes with Gobber this year. Gobber was a great guy—he was one of his dad's best friends when he was at Berk—but he had an unfortunate habit of creating dangerous robots. And then underestimating just how dangerous they really were.

Hiccup wasn’t too worried about the class himself. He had helped Gobber in the forge before, after all, and had even made a necklace for Astrid all the way back in their first year (granted, he’d had a lot of help, but he’d still been the one to make the necklace, so there). And due to his fire core magic, the temperature of the forge had never bothered him. How the other students—who, unlike him, lacked a tolerance to extreme heat—would handle this book, however…

He placed the book under his bed until he could decide what to do with it later and picked up Gobber's card.

_ Dear Hiccup, _

_ Happy Birthday! _

_ Think you might find this useful for your lessons with me next year. We'll have a great time, I can tell you. _

_ Hope the Muggles are treating you right. _

_ All the best, _

_ Gobber _

Hiccup placed Gobber's card next to Astrid and Ragnar's, smiling broadly as he looked at the cards his friends had sent him. Now there was only the letter from Berk left.

Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, he slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within and read:

_ Dear Mr Haddock, _

_ Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Berk Express will leave from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock. _

_ Third-years are permitted to visit the village of Berksmeade on certain weekends. Please give enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. _

_ A list of books for next year is enclosed. _

_ Yours sincerely _

_ Phlegma the Fierce _

_ Deputy Headmistress _

_ P.S. Happy birthday _

Hiccup pulled out the Berksmeade permission form and looked at it, his grin fading. It would be wonderful to visit Berksmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely Viking village, one of the only ones left in the world, and he had only set foot there to get on and off the train. But how on Midgard was he going to persuade Uncle Björn or Aunt SkaÐi to sign the form?

He looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning.

Deciding that he'd worry about the Berksmeade form when he woke up, Hiccup stuffed the form into his pocket, got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Berk. Then he faced his three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Hiccup felt just like everyone else: glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

* * *

******Wow! A happy birthday for our hero? That's a new one.**

**Highlight of chapter:  Astrid's letter to Hiccup.**

**Any suggestions for what I should do in future chapters/books? Feel free to let me know; I'll probably use it. Credit is always given.**

**Remember to comment, bookmark, and/or leave a kudos—everyone who does gets a shout-out at the end.**

**See you guys next Monday!**


	2. Aunt Olga's Big Mistake

**Today's chapter is dedicated to Robert Hardy, the actor for Cornelius Fudge, who passed away last week at the age of ninety-one. Rest well, Robert, for your work here is done.**

* * *

_Chapter Two: Aunt Olga's Big Mistake_

* * *

Hiccup went down to breakfast next morning to find the three Dalvors already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Balder, who had been complaining loudly about the lengthy walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Balder had spent almost all of the summer holidays in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen, and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Hiccup sat down between Balder and Uncle Björn, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Hiccup a happy birthday, none of the Dalvors gave any sign that they had noticed him enter the room. Hiccup, far too used to this treatment to really care anymore, helped himself to a piece of toast and looked up at the newsreader on the television, which was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.

"…The public is warned that Alvin Harkstow is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Harkstow should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us _he's_ no good," Uncle Björn snorted, peering over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"

He shot a nasty look sideways at Hiccup, whose shaggy hair had become a source of great annoyance to Uncle Björn lately. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by an elbow-length tangle of matted, blackish-brown hair, Hiccup felt very well groomed indeed.

The newsreader reappeared.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today—"

"Now wait just a minute!" Uncle Björn barked, staring furiously at the newsreader. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escape from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street, right now!"

Aunt SkaÐi, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Hiccup knew Aunt SkaÐi would simply love to be the one to call the hotline number, after years of spying on her boring, law-abiding neighbors.

"When will they _learn_ ," Uncle Björn said, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

"You’re absolutely right, dear," Aunt SkaÐi said distractedly, still squinting into next door's runner-beans.

Uncle Björn drained his coffee mug, glanced at his watch and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, SkaÐi darling. Olga's train gets in at ten."

Hiccup, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Saddle Servicing Kit, was brought back to Midgard with an unpleasant bump.

"Aunt Olga?" he blurted out. "Oh, sh— _she's_ not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Olga was Uncle Björn's older sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Hiccup's, whose mother had been Aunt SkaÐi's sister, he had been forced to call her "Aunt" all his life. Aunt Olga lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay in Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, thank _Thor_ , but each of her visits stood out vividly in Hiccup's mind.

At Balder's fifth birthday party, Aunt Olga had whacked Hiccup around the shins with her walking stick in an attempt to stop him from beating Balder at musical statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Snoggletog with a brand new, computerized robot for Balder and half a box of moldy dog biscuits for Hiccup. On her last visit, the year before Hiccup had started at Berk, Hiccup had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Hiccup out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Olga had refused to call him off until hours later, when Hiccup finally lost his grip and fell, attracting the attention of the neighbors. The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Balder's eyes.

"Olga will be here for a week," Uncle Björn snarled, "and while we're on the subject"—he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Hiccup—"we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Balder smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Hiccup being bullied by Uncle Björn was Balder's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," Uncle Björn growled, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Olga."

"Alright," Hiccup said bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to me."

"Secondly," Uncle Björn went on, acting as though he had not heard Hiccup's reply, "as Olga doesn't know anything about your _abnormality,_ I don't want any—any _funny_ stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," Hiccup answered through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," Uncle Björn said, his mean little eyes now silts on his great purple face, "we've told Olga you attend Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys—"

" _What?_ " Hiccup yelled.

"—And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble," Uncle Björn spat.

Hiccup sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Björn, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Olga coming for a week-long visit—it was the worst birthday present the Dalvors had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Björn's old socks.

"Well, SkaÐi," Uncle Björn said, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Balder?"

"No," Balder grunted, his attention returning to the television now that Uncle Björn had finished threatening Hiccup.

"Balder has to make himself smart for his auntie," Aunt SkaÐi cooed, smoothing Balder's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow-tie."

Uncle Björn clapped Balder on his porky shoulder. "See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen.

Hiccup, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Björn to the front door.

Uncle Björn was pulling on his car coat.

"I'm not taking _you_ ," he snarled, as he turned to see Hiccup watching him. "I want Olga in a good mood when she gets here."

"I don’t want to go with you," Hiccup said coldly. "I want to ask you something."

Uncle Björn eyed him suspiciously.

"Third years at Be—at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes," Hiccup said, pulling out his form.

"So?" Uncle Björn snapped, taking his keys from a hook next to the door.

"I need you to sign the permission form," Hiccup said in a rush.

Uncle Björn paused, then glanced back at Hiccup. "And why should I do that?" he sneered.

"Well," Hiccup said, choosing his words carefully, "the _last_ thing I would want to do is slip up when I pretend to Aunt Olga that I go to that St. Whatsits…"

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!" Uncle Björn bellowed, and Hiccup was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in his voice.

"Yeah, that place," Hiccup said, looking calmly up into Uncle Björn's large, purple face. "It's a lot to remember. I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? And you know I’ve never been good at lying. What would happen if, Odin forbid, I _accidentally_ let something slip?"

" _You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?_ " Uncle Björn roared, advancing on Hiccup with his fist raised. But Hiccup stood his ground.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Olga forget what I could tell her," he said grimly.

Uncle Björn froze, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

"But if you sign my permission form," Hiccup went on quickly, "I swear by every god and goddess I know that I'll remember where I'm supposed to go to school, and I'll act like a Mug—I mean, I’ll act like I'm normal and everything."

Hiccup could tell that Uncle Björn was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he finally snapped. "I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Olga's visit. If, at the end, you've toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy form."

He wheeled around, pulled open the front door and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.

Hiccup didn't return to the kitchen. He went back upstairs to his bedroom. If he was going to act like a real Muggle, he'd better start now. Slowly and sadly he gathered up all his presents and his birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with his homework. Then he went to Sharpshot's cage. Everwild seemed to have recovered; she and Sharpshot were both asleep, heads under their wings. Blood-Spatter was sniffing the ground, probably looking for leftover fish pieces. Hiccup sighed and lifted him off of the floor.

_"Hey, what are you doing?! I’m still hungry!"_ Blood-Spatter growled. Hiccup ignored him and poked the sleeping dragons awake.

"Sharpshot, Blood-Spatter," he said gloomily, "you're going to have to leave the house for a week. Go with Everwild, Astrid'll look after you. I'll write her a note, explaining the situation. And don't give me that"—the two dragons were in the process of roaring furious protests—"it's not my fault. It's the only way I'll be allowed to visit Berksmeade with Astrid and Ragnar."

Ten minutes later, Everwild, Blood-Spatter and Sharpshot (who had a note to Astrid bound to his leg) soared out of the window and out of sight. Hiccup, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe.

But he didn't have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt SkaÐi was shrieking up the stairs for Hiccup to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.

"Do something about your hair!" Aunt SkaÐi snapped as he reached the hall.

Hiccup honestly didn’t see the point of trying to make his hair look presentable. Aunt Olga loved criticizing him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Björn's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors, and footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the door!" Aunt SkaÐi hissed at Hiccup.

A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Hiccup pulled the door open.

On the threshold she stood; dreaded Aunt Olga. She looked very much like Uncle Björn in a dress: large, beefy and purple-faced. She even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, stuffed fit to burst, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.

"Where's my Baldy?" Aunt Olga roared. "Where's my neffy-poo?"

Balder came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bright red bow-tie barely visible under his many chins. Aunt Olga thrust the suitcase into Hiccup's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Balder in a tight one-armed hug and planted a large kiss on his cheek.

Hiccup knew perfectly well that Balder only put up with Aunt Olga's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Balder had crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

"SkaÐi!" Aunt Olga shouted, striding past Hiccup as though he was a hat-stand.

"Olga!" Aunt SkaÐi exclaimed with delight. "You look wonderful, dear. I absolutely _adore_ your dress."

The two women kissed; or rather, Aunt Olga bumped her large jaw against Aunt SkaÐi's bony cheekbone.

Uncle Björn now came in, smiling jovially for once as he shut the door.

"Tea, Olga?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," Aunt Olga said as they all trooped into the kitchen, leaving Hiccup alone in the hall with the suitcase. Not that Hiccup was complaining—in fact, any excuse not to be with Aunt Olga was fine by him. He began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as he could.

(Two years ago it really would have taken that much time, but he was pleased to say he was growing stronger)

By the time he got back to the kitchen, Aunt Olga had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Hiccup saw Aunt SkaÐi wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt SkaÐi hated all animals, but especially dogs. She had had to work hard to keep this information from Olga.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Olga?" Uncle Björn asked.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Folki managing them," Aunt Olga boomed. "He's retired now, so it’s good for him to have something to do. The dogs all like him well enough, and he likes them. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."

Ripper began to growl again as Hiccup sat down. This directed Aunt Olga's attention to Hiccup for the first time.

"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you?"

"Yes," Hiccup said.

"Don't you say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone," Aunt Olga growled. "It's damn good of Björn and SkaÐi to keep you. I wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to the nearest orphanage if you'd been dumped on _my_ doorstep."

Hiccup was practically bursting to say that he'd rather live in an orphanage (or anywhere else, for that matter) than with the Dalvors, but the thought of the Berksmeade form stopped him. He forced his face into a very painful smile.

"Don't you smirk at me!" Aunt Olga boomed. "I can see you haven't improved since I saw you last. I had hoped school would knock some manners into you, or at least some muscles, but you still look like a runt." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her moustache and said, "Where is it that you send him again, Björn?"

"Brutus's," Uncle Björn said promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for the most hopeless of cases."

"I see," Aunt Olga said. "Do they use the cane at Brutus's, boy?" she barked across the table.

"Uh—"

Uncle Björn nodded curtly behind Aunt Olga's back.

"Yes," Hiccup said. Then, feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, "all the time."

"Excellent," Aunt Olga praised. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have _you_ been beaten often?"

"Oh, yeah," Hiccup said, "loads of times."

_Just not at school._

Aunt Olga narrowed her eyes.

"I still don't like that tone of yours, boy," she said. "If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. SkaÐi, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear to them that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy's case."

Perhaps Uncle Björn was worried that Hiccup might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.

"Heard the news this morning, Olga? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

* * *

As Aunt Olga started to make herself at home, Hiccup caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Björn and Aunt SkaÐi usually encouraged Hiccup to stay out of their way, which Hiccup was only too happy to do. Aunt Olga, on the other hand, wanted Hiccup under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for his "improvement". She delighted in comparing Hiccup with Balder, and took huge pleasure in buying Balder expensive presents whilst glaring at Hiccup, as though daring him to ask why he hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Hiccup such an "unsatisfactory person".

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, brother," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the _inside_ , there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Normally, Hiccup was able to control his anger, but Aunt Olga was one of those rare few who could get him to his boiling point with little effort. He tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook, and his face was starting to burn with anger. _Remember the form_ , he told himself. _Think about Berksmeade. Don't say anything. Don't rise—_

Aunt Olga reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, you can bet your life there’ll be something wrong with the pup—"

At that moment, the wine glass Aunt Olga was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction, and Aunt Olga spluttered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

"Olga!" Aunt SkaÐi squealed. "Olga dear, are you alright?"

"Not to worry," Aunt Olga grunted, mopping her face with her napkin. "I must have squeezed it too hard. Not surprising, really; I did the same thing at Colonel Folki's the other day. No need to fuss, SkaÐi, I have a very firm grip…"

However, upon closer examination, Hiccup could see that the shards of glass were melted. Aunt SkaÐi and Uncle Björn were both giving Hiccup suspicious looks, so he decided he'd better skip pudding and escape from the table as soon as he could.

Outside in the hall, he leaned against the front door, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since he'd lost control and made something explode. He couldn't afford to let it happen again. The Berksmeade form wasn't the only thing at stake—if he carried on like this, he'd be in trouble with the Dragon Ministry.

Hiccup was still an underage Viking, and he was forbidden by Viking law to do magic outside the academy. His record wasn't exactly clean, either. Only last summer he'd got an official warning which had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Hiccup would face expulsion from Berk.

There was a knock at the door, pulling Hiccup out of his thoughts. He turned around and opened the door, but no one was there. The street was empty. Surely, no one was fast enough to have run away in such a short amount of time.

"What in the name of Thor was—"

A small, pitiful whimper directed his attention downwards.

There, sitting on the welcome mat, was a tiny pup. It looked underfed, sickly, with light brown fur that was matted and dirty. It was looking up at him, head tilted to the side curiously, as though as surprised to see him as he was to see it.

"Hello there little one," Hiccup murmured, crouching down to the pup’s level. "What’re you doing here?"

The pup tentatively reached out a paw and pressed it against his nose, head still tilted. Hiccup pushed the paw away, and the pup went around his hand and pressed a bit harder.

Then Hiccup noticed a small slip of parchment at his feet. Scribbled onto it in big letters were the words:

**Take care of her, lad. It’s all I ask of you.**

"What—"

Hiccup heard the Dalvors leaving the table, so he scooped the pup into his arms and hurried upstairs, out of their way.

The parchment fluttered away in the breeze, never to be seen again.

* * *

Hiccup got through the next three days by forcing himself to think about his _Handbook of Do-it-yourself Saddlecare_ whenever Aunt Olga started on him. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give him a glazed look, because Aunt Olga started voicing the opinion that he was mentally subnormal.

At last, at long, long last, the final evening of Olga's stay arrived. Aunt SkaÐi cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Björn uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Hiccup's supposed faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Björn bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt SkaÐi made coffee and Uncle Björn brought out a large bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Olga?"

Aunt Olga had already had rather a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.

"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that…and a bit more… _that's_ the ticket."

Balder was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt SkaÐi was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Hiccup really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Uncle Björn's angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out.

The pup—or Karita, as he'd taken to calling her—was curled up at his feet, still a bit wet from the bath he had given her earlier that day. Since he'd brought her inside, Karita had followed faithfully at his heels, growling at his relatives when she crossed their paths. This both delighted Hiccup and infuriated the Dalvors, who only let him keep her because he’d threatened to tell Aunt Olga about Aunt SkaÐi’s hatred of dogs.

"Aah," Aunt Olga said, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "That was some excellent nosh, SkaÐi. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…" She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Balder. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Balder sweetie, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Björn…

"Now, this one here—"

She jerked her head to Hiccup, who felt his stomach clench. _The Handbook_ , he thought quickly.

"This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Folki drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was; weak, underbred. Rather like that pup he brought in. Kindred spirits, if you will; both creatures that should have been offed the moment they were born."

Almost on cue, Hiccup felt Karita get up, snarling as though she understood. Meanwhile, he was trying to remember page twelve of his book: _A Wind Spell to Boost Dragon Speed._

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, SkaÐi"—she patted Aunt SkaÐi's bony hand with her shovel-like one, "but your sister was a bad egg. Eh, they turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel, and here's the result sitting right in front of us."

Karita growled again, even louder than before. Hiccup was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ear. _Grasp your saddle's reins firmly,_ he thought. But he couldn't remember what came next. Aunt Olga's voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Björn's drills.

"This Haddock," Aunt Olga said loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

Uncle Björn and Aunt SkaÐi were looking extremely tense. Balder had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He—didn't work," Uncle Björn said slowly, with a half glance at Hiccup. "Unemployed."

"Ah-ha!" Aunt Olga exclaimed, taking a huge swing of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "I expected as much! A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who—"

Like that, it had been taken too far.

"He was not," Hiccup growled, sounding quite like a dragon.

The table went deathly quiet. Hiccup was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.

"HAVE SOME MORE BRANDY, OLGA!" Uncle Björn, who had gone very white, yelled. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Olga's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Hiccup. "Go to bed, go on—"

"No, brother," Aunt Olga hiccoughed, holding up a hand. Her tiny bloodshot eyes were fixed on Hiccup's. "Go on, runt, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect)—"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" Hiccup screamed, jumping to his feet.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a troublemaking burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" Aunt Olga cried, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little—"

"MY PARENTS DIED TO SAVE MY LIFE!"

Aunt Olga had frozen. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible rage—but the swelling didn't stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. Next second, several buttons burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls—she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami and steam was pouring out of her mouth and ears.

Hiccup didn't know how he did it, but somehow he had managed to inflate Aunt Olga with a large amount of hot air.

"OLGA!" Uncle Björn and Aunt SkaÐi yelled together, as Aunt Olga's whole body began to rise off her chair towards the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, leaving a trail of steam behind as she made apoplectic popping noises. From under the table, Karita let out a yipping noise that sounded distinctly like laughter. Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly in kind.

"NOOOOOO!"

Uncle Björn seized one of Olga's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. Next second, Ripper had leapt forward and sunk his teeth into Uncle Björn's leg. Karita burst from underneath the table and followed the older dog’s example.

Uncle Björn screamed swear words. Aunt SkaÐi and Balder merely screamed.

And Hiccup?

"Always thought she was full of hot air," Hiccup said, laughing like a maniac as he left the room before anyone could stop him.

He headed for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard's lock melted at his very touch and he opened the door. In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door. He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenched up loose floorboard and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents. He wriggled out, seized Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter's empty cage and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Björn burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. Karita followed, with scraps of the fabric in her mouth.

"COME BACK HERE!" Uncle Björn bellowed. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

But a reckless rage had come over Hiccup. He pulled out his dagger, which he always carried with him, and pointed it at Uncle Björn.

"She deserved it," Hiccup said, breathing fast. "She deserved what she got, insulting my parents. You keep away from me."

He fumbled behind him for the catch on the door.

"I'm going," Hiccup said. "I've had enough."

And next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Sharpshot's cage under his arm, and Karita running free beside him.

* * *

**Freedom!**

**Highlight of chapter: Karita's nose-bop thing. Fun fact: That bit was based off of my own puppies, particularly my younger one. Emerald does not care for my attempts to stop her from accidentally clawing out my eyes.**

**Karita means "charity". I'm sure you can guess why Hiccup called her that.**

**See ya'll next Monday!**


	3. The Night Dragon Bus

**Happy late birthday to Ginevra "Ginny" Potter! (It was** **August 11th)**

* * *

_Chapter Three: The Night Dragon Bus_

* * *

Hiccup was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk. He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart.

"Where was I planning on going?" Hiccup asked Karita as she moved to sit beside him.

He had left Privet Drive in such a foul mood he hadn’t even thought about where to go. And there was another, worse problem; he had just done a serious bit of magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Berk. He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Vikings so badly, it was a miracle that Dragon Ministry representatives weren't swooping down on him where he sat.

Hiccup shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. What was going to happen to him? Would he be arrested, or would he simply be outlawed from the Viking world? He thought of Astrid and Ragnar, and his heart sank even lower. Hiccup was sure that, criminal or not, Astrid and Ragnar would want to help him now, but they were both abroad, and with his dragons gone, he had no means of contacting them.

He didn't have any Muggle money, either. There was a little Viking gold in the moneybag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune his parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts Viking Bank in London. He'd never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London. Unless…

Hiccup stood and opened his trunk, digging through the contents. Perhaps there something in there that could help him—something, anything…

But before he had found anything, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more.

A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Hiccup feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

He bent over his trunk again and pulled out his sword, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clutching the hilt. He had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Hiccup squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then he'd know whether it was just a stray cat or—something else.

Hiccup raised his sword high over his head and ignited it. The pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them, Hiccup saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. Karita barked and dashed across the street, straight towards it.

Hiccup stepped backwards. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His sword flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter—

There was a deafening BANG, and Hiccup threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light—

With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights had screeched to a halt exactly where Hiccup had just been lying. They belonged, as Hiccup saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decker, pitch-black bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled  _ The Night Dragon Bus. _

For a split second, Hiccup wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall. Then a conductor in black clothing leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly into the night.

"Welcome to the Night Dragon Bus, emergency transport for the stranded Viking or Valkyrie. Just stick out your sword arm, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Ivar the Idiot, and I will be your conductor this eve—"

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Hiccup, who was still sitting on the ground. Hiccup snatched up his sword again and scrambled to his feet. Close up, he saw that Ivar the Idiot was only a few years older than he was, eighteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples.

"What were you doing down there, kid?" Ivar asked, dropping his professional manner.

"Fell over," Hiccup said.

"'Choo fall over for?" Ivar sniggered.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Hiccup said, annoyed. One of the knees of his trousers was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding profusely. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over, and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway, flooding it with light.

It was empty.

"What 'choo lookin' at?" Ivar asked.

"There was a big black thing," Hiccup said, pointing uncertainly into the gap. "Like a dog…but massive…My dog ran after it…"

He looked around at Ivar, whose mouth hung open slightly.  _ "Definitely lives up to his title _ , _ "  _ Hiccup thought. Then, with a feeling of unease, he realized that Ivar's eyes were moving to the scar on his forehead.

"Woss’s that on your 'head?" Ivar asked abruptly.

"Nothing," Hiccup said quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Dragon Ministry was looking for him, he didn't want to make it too easy for them.

"Woss’s your name?" Ivar persisted.

"Fishlegs Ingerman," Hiccup said, using the first name that came into his head. "So—so this bus," he went on quickly, hoping to distract Ivar, "did you say it goes  _ anywhere _ ?"

"Yep," Ivar said proudly, "Anywhere you like, long's it's on land. We can't do nuffink underwater. 'Ere," he said, looking suspicious again, "you  _ did _ flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your sword 'and, dincha?"

"Yes," Hiccup said quickly. It would take less time if he didn’t argue. "Listen, how much would it be to get to London?"

"Eleven Sickles," Ivar said, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot-water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

Hiccup rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag and shoved some gold into Ivar's hand. He and Ivar then lifted his trunk, with Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter’s cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus.

"Hold on—Karita, come here girl!"

The pup came running out of the alleyway, yipping happily. Hiccup gathered her into his arms and stepped into the bus.

There were no seats; instead, half-a-dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny Viking in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs," and rolled over in his sleep.

"You 'ave this one," Ivar whispered, shoving Hiccup's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Eric the Near-sighted. This is Fishlegs Ingerman, Eric."

Eric the Near-sighted, an elderly Viking wearing thick glass, nodded to Hiccup, who quickly flattened his hair again and sat down on his bed. He was also nervous, because some called "the Near-sighted" wasn't someone he would want to drive him around the country.

"Take 'er away, Eric," Ivar said, sitting down in the armchair next to Eric.

There was another tremendous BANG, and next moment Hiccup found himself flat on his bed, thrown backwards by the speed of the Night Dragon Bus. Pulling himself up (quite the task with a trembling dog in his arms), Hiccup stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Ivar was watching Hiccup's stunned face with great enjoyment. 

"This is where we were before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Eric? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Aye," Eric said.

"How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" Hiccup asked, patting Karita’s head to calm her down.

"Them!" Ivar said contemptuously. "They wouldn't recognize a dragon even if it sat in their backyard. They don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don’.'"

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Ivar," Eric said. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."

Ivar passed Hiccup's bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Hiccup was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous. Eric didn't seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Night Dragon Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything; lines of lamp posts, letter boxes and bins jumped out of the way as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

Ivar came back. He was followed by a faintly green Valkyrie wrapped in a travelling cape.

"'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," Ivar said happily, as Eric stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so towards the front of the bus. Madam Marsh clamped a hand to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Ivar threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way.

Hiccup wouldn't have been able to sleep even if he had been travelling on a bus that didn't keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. His stomach churned as he fell back to wondering what was going to happen to him, and whether the Dalvors had managed to get Aunt Olga off the ceiling yet.

Ivar had unfurled a copy of the  _ Daily Prophet _ and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Hiccup from the front page. He looked strangely familiar…

"That man!" Hiccup said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. "He was on the Muggle news!"

Karita turned her head towards the paper and yipped. Ivar turned to the front page and chuckled.

"Alvin Harkstow, or as we call ‘im, Alvin the Treacherous," he said with a nod. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Fishlegs. Where you been?"

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Hiccup's face, removed the front page, and handed it to Hiccup.

"You oughta read the papers more, Fishlegs."

Hiccup held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

_ ALVIN THE TREACHEROUS STILL AT LARGE _

_ Alvin the Treacherous, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Chief confirmed today. _

" _ We are doing all we can to recapture Alvin the Treacherous," The Chief, Fudge the Mighty, said this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm." _

_ Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Berserkers for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. _

" _ Well, really I had to, don't you know," an irritable Fudge said. "Alvin the Treacherous is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Alvin the Treacherous' true identity to anyone. And let's face it—who'd believe him if he did?" _

_ While Muggles have been told that Alvin the Treacherous is carrying a gun (a kind of metal crystal eye which Muggles use for the sole purpose of killing each other), the Viking community lives in fear of a massacre like that which happened twelve years ago, when Alvin the Treacherous murdered fourteen people with a single Fire Curse. _

Hiccup looked into the shadowed eyes of Alvin the Treacherous, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Hiccup had never met a demon, but he had seen pictures of them in his Combat Arts classes, and Alvin, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one.

"He’s a scary-lookin' fing, inee?" Ivar asked.

"He murdered  _ fourteen people _ ?" Hiccup asked, handing the page back to Ivar, "with  _ one curse _ ?"

"Yep," Ivar said. "One of ‘em was ‘is own daughter, if the stories are to be believed. ‘E committed the crime with witnesses an' all; in broad daylight, no less. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Eric?"

"Aye," Eric said darkly.

Ivar swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Hiccup.

"Alvin the Treacherous woz a big supporter of the Dragon Lord," he said.

"What, Dra—I mean the Dragon Lord?" Hiccup said, biting his own tongue for almost saying Drago's name aloud.

"Yeah," Ivar said, thankfully not noticing Hiccup slipup. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to the Dragon Lord, they say… anyway, when little, 'Hiccup 'Addock got the better of the Dragon Lord"—Hiccup nervously flattened his hair again—"all the Dragon Lord's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Eric? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv the Dragon Lord gone, and they came quiet. But Alvin the Treacherous did no such thing. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once the Dragon Lord 'ad taken over."

Karita growled darkly, her hackles raised.

"Anyway, they cornered Alvin in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Alvin took out is axe and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a Viking got it, an' so did ‘is kid an’ a dozen Muggles that got in the way.’Orrible, eh? An' you know what Alvin did then?" Ivar continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" Hiccup asked, leaning forward in spite of himself.

" _ Laughed _ ," Ivar said.

"Seriously; he laughed?" Hiccup asked, stunned.

"No joke; ‘e jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Dragon Ministry got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. It’s cos 'e's mad, inee, Eric?"

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," Eric said in his slow voice. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind…after what he did…"

"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Eric?" Ivar said. "'Ole street blown up, an' all them Muggles dead; definitely got noticed. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Eric?"

"Gas explosion," Eric grunted.

"An' now 'e's out," Ivar said, examining the newspaper picture of Alvin's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Eric? Still beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Eric?"

Eric suddenly shivered.

"Talk about summat else, Ivar, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Ivar put the paper away reluctantly, and Hiccup leaned against the window of the Night Dragon Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn't help imagining what Iral might be telling his passengers in a few nights' time.

"'Did ya ‘ear about that 'Hiccup 'Addock? ‘E blew up 'is own Aunt! We 'ad 'im and his dog 'ere on the Dragon Night Bus, di'n't we, Eric? 'E was tryin' to run for it…"

He, Hiccup, had broken Viking law just like Alvin the Treacherous. Was inflating Aunt Olga bad enough to land him in Azkaban? Hiccup didn't know anything about the Viking prison, though everyone he'd ever heard speak of it did do in the same fearful tone. Gobber the Belch, the Forge Master of Berk, had spent two months there only last year. Hiccup wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Gobber's face when he had been told where he was going, and Gobber was one of the bravest people Hiccup knew.

The Night Dragon Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and bollards, telephone boxes and trees, and Hiccup lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Ivar remembered that Hiccup had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over poor Karita when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen (Karita had not appreciated that, if her frenzied barking was anything to go by). One by one, Vikings and Valkyries in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go.

Finally, Hiccup was the only passenger left.

"Right then, Fishlegs," Ivar said, clapping his hands, "where abouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley," Hiccup said.

"Righto," Ivar said, "'old tight then…"

BANG.

They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Hiccup sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Night Dragon Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off—where, he didn't know.

Eric slammed on the brakes and the Night Dragon Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small, shabby-looking and abandoned pub, the Dragon’s Flame, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Thanks," Hiccup said to Eric.

He jumped down the steps, placed Karita on the ground, and helped Ivar lower his trunk and Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter's cage onto the pavement.

"Well," Hiccup said, "bye then!"

But Ivar wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Dragon’s Flame.

" _ There _ you are, Hiccup," a voice said.

Before Hiccup could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Karita began barking again, and Ivar shouted, "By Odin's beard! Eric, some 'ere an’ see this! _Come_ _'ere an’ see this_!"

Hiccup looked up at his owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach—he had walked right into Fudge the Mighty, the Chief of the Dragon Ministry himself.

"The gods must hate me," Hiccup groaned.

Ivar leapt onto the pavement beside them.

"What didja call Fishlegs, Chief?" he asked excitedly.

Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted.

"Fishlegs?" he repeated, frowning. "This is Hiccup Haddock."

"I knew it!" Ivar shouted gleefully. "Eric! Eric! Guess 'oo Fishlegs is Eric! 'E is ‘iccup ‘addock! By gods, now I can see 'is scar!"

"Yes," Fudge said testily. "Well, I'm glad the Dragon Night Bus picked Hiccup up, but he and I need to step inside the Dragon’s Flame now…"

Fudge increased the pressure on Hiccup's shoulder, and Hiccup found himself being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Sven the Innkeeper, the toothless landlord.

"You've got him, Chief!" Sven said. "Will you want anything? Beer, Brandy?"

"Perhaps a cup of coffee," Fudge said. He still hadn't let go of Hiccup.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Ivar and Eric appeared, carrying Hiccup's trunk and Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter’s cage and looking around excitedly.

"'Ow come you di'n't tell us 'oo you are, eh, Fishlegs?" Ivar said, beaming at Hiccup, while Eric’s owlish face peered interestedly over Ivar’s shoulder.

"And a  _ private _ parlor, please, Sven," Fudge said pointedly.

"Bye," Hiccup said miserably to Ivar and Eric, as Sven beckoned Fudge towards the passage that led from the bar.

"Bye, Fishlegs!" Ivar called.

Fudge marched Hiccup along the narrow passage after Sven’s lantern, and then into a small parlor. Sven clicked his fingers, causing a fire to burst into life in the grate, and bowed himself out of the room.

"Sit down, Hiccup," Fudge said, indicating a chair by the fire.

Hiccup sat down, feeling goosebumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. Karita jumped up and sat rigid beside him, her eyes trained onto Fudge. Fudge took off his pinstriped cape, tossed it aside, and then sat opposite to Hiccup.

"I am Fudge the Mighty, Hiccup; Chief of the Dragon Ministry."

Hiccup already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father's Invisibility Cape at the time, Fudge wasn't to know that.

Sven the Innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray with two mugs of coffee. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Hiccup, and left the parlor, closing the door behind him.

"Well, Hiccup," Fudge said, picking up his mug of coffee, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think…but you're safe, and that's what matters."

Fudge took a sip of coffee and noticed that Hiccup hadn’t touched his mug.

"Drink up, Hiccup, you look dead on your feet. Now then…you will no doubt be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Olga Dalvor. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dalvor has been deflated, and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done."

Fudge smiled at Hiccup over the rim of his mug, rather like an uncle surveying a favorite nephew (not that Hiccup knew what that felt like). Hiccup, who couldn't believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again.

"Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" Fudge guessed. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Hiccup, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Berk for the Snoggletog and Thor holidays."

Hiccup unstuck his throat.

"I  _ always _ stay at Berk for the Snoggletog and Thor holidays," he said, "and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive."

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," Fudge said in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other—uh— _ very _ deep down."

It didn't occur to Hiccup to put Fudge right. He was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to him now.

"So all that remains," Fudge said, now finishing off his coffee, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last two weeks of your holidays. I suggest you take a room here at the Dragon’s Flame and—"

"Hang on," Hiccup blurted, "what about my punishment?"

Fudge blinked.

"Your…punishment?"

"I broke the law!" Hiccup said. "I violated the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Vikings!"

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" Fudge cried, waving his mug impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts. "

But this didn't tally at all with Hiccup's past dealing with the Dragon Ministry.

"Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house!" Hiccup said, frowning. "It wasn’t even me that time! The Dragon Ministry said I would be expelled from Berk if there was any more magic sensed there!"

Unless Hiccup's eyes were deceiving him, Fudge suddenly looked rather awkward.

"Circumstances change, Hiccup…we have to take into account…in the present climate…surely you don't  _ want _ to be expelled?"

"Of course I don't," Hiccup said. "But—"

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" Fudge laughed airily. "Now, take a sip of coffee, Hiccup, while I go and see if Sven's got a room available for you." 

Fudge strode out of the parlor, and Hiccup stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Dragon’s Flame, if not to punish him for what he'd done? And now, Hiccup came to think of it, surely it wasn't usual for the Chief  _ himself _ to get involved in matters of underage magic, right?

Fudge came back, accompanied by Sven the Innkeeper.

"Room eleven's free, Hiccup," Fudge said. "I think you'll be very comfortable. Just one thing, and I'm sure you'll understand: I don't want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand. Sven will be keeping an eye on you for me."

"Okay…" Hiccup said slowly, "but why—?"

"Don't want to lose you again, do we?" Fudge said with another airy laugh. "No, no… best we know where you are… I mean…"

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cape.

"Well, I'll be off; plenty to do, you know…"

"Have you had any luck with Alvin the Treacherous yet?" Hiccup asked.

Fudge's fingers slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.

"What's that? Oh, you've heard—well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed…and they are angrier than I've seen them."

Fudge shuddered slightly.

"So, I'll say goodbye."

He held out his hand and Hiccup, shaking it, had a sudden idea.

"Uh—Chief, can I ask you something?"

"Certainly," Fudge smiled.

"Well, third years at Berk are allowed to visit Berksmeade, but my aunt and uncle didn't sign the permission form. D'you think you could…?"

Fudge was looking uncomfortable.

"Ah," he said. "No. no, I'm very sorry, Hiccup, but as I'm not your parent or guardian—"

"But you're the Chief," Hiccup pointed out eagerly. "If you gave me permission—"

"No, I'm sorry, Hiccup, but rules are rules," Fudge said flatly. "Perhaps you'll be able to visit Berksmeade next year. In fact, I think it best if you don't… yes… well, I'll be off. Enjoy your stay, Hiccup."

And with a last smile and shake of Hiccup's hand, Fudge left the room. Sven now moved forward, beaming at Hiccup.

"Nice try, lad," Sven chuckled. "Now then, if you'll follow me to your room, Mr. Haddock. You'll find your things are already there…"

Hiccup picked up Karita and followed Sven up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with brass number eleven on it, which Sven unlocked and opened for him.

Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe—

"Sharpshot, Blood-Spatter, what are you doing here?!" Hiccup gasped.

The Terrible Terrors roared and flew onto Hiccup's shoulders, nuzzling him. Blood-Spatter quickly began sniffing Karita, who yipped loudly in return.

"Very smart Terrible Terrors you've got there," Sven chuckled. "They arrived about five minutes after you did. If there's anything you need, Mr Haddock, don't hesitate to ask."

He gave another bow and left.

Hiccup sat on his bed for a long time, absent-mindedly stroking Karita. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely grey and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Hiccup could hardly believe that he'd only left Privet Drive a few hours ago, that he wasn't expelled, and that he was now facing two completely Dalvor-free weeks.

"It's been a very weird night, Karita," he yawned.

And he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep.

* * *

**Yes it has, Hiccup. Yes it has...**

**Highlight of chapter: The Night Dragon Bus. I have _always_ wanted to be able to get on this thing (though I suspect I'd have to avoid eating before I got on). Also, I kind of liked the shrunken head they used in the movie (hey, he was funny!), but he didn't make the cut, because I had no idea how to fit him in without distracting from the rest of the story. Sorry dude.**

**Please remember to leave a comment on your way out, and maybe click 'Kudos' if you haven't already. Until next week!**


	4. The Dragon's Flame

**Solar eclipse today! I'm away from home at the moment, so I figured I ought to get this chapter out now. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter four: The Dragon's Flame_

* * *

It took Hiccup several days to get used to his strange new freedom. Never before had he been able to get up whenever he wanted or eat whatever he fancied. He could even go wherever he pleased, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating Viking shops in the world, Hiccup felt no desire to break his word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world.

Hiccup ate breakfast each morning in the Dragon’s Flame, where he liked watching the other guests; funny little Valkyries from the country, up for a day's shopping—venerable-looking Vikings arguing over the latest in _Transfiguration Today_ ; wild-looking berserkers; raucous dwarfs; and, once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava.

After breakfast Hiccup would go out into the backyard, take out his sword, tap the third brick from the left above the dustbin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall.

Hiccup spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing each other their purchases ("it's a lunasope, old boy—no more messing around with moon charts, see?") or else discussing the case of Alvin the Treacherous ("personally, I won't let any of the children go out by themselves until he's back in Azkaban"). Hiccup didn't have to do his homework under the blankets by torchlight anymore; now he could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean the Chilly's Ice-Cream Parlor, finishing all his essays with occasional help from Florean the Chilly himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch-burnings, gave Hiccup free sundaes every half-hour, and always had a bowl of cold water for Karita.

Once Hiccup had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Kunts from his vault at Gringotts, he needed to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once. He had to keep reminding himself that he had five years to go at Berk, and how it would feel to ask the Dalvors for money for spellbooks, to stop himself buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones (a Viking game rather like marbles, in which the stones squirted a nasty-smelling liquid into the other player's face when they lost a point). He was sorely tempted too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant he never had to take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tested Hiccup's resolution most appeared in his favorite shop, Dazzling Dragon Racing Supplies, a week after he'd arrived at the Dragon’s Flame.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Hiccup edged his way inside and squeezed in amongst the excited Vikings and Valkyries until he glimpsed a newly erected podium on which was mounted the most magnificent saddle he had ever seen in his life.

"Just come out—prototype—" a square-jawed Viking was telling his companion.

"It's the best saddle in the world isn't it, Dad?" a boy younger than Hiccup squeaked, swinging off of his father's beefy arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!"

A large Valkyrie in front of Hiccup moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the saddle:

_THE FIREBOLT_

_This state-of-the-art racing saddle is made from Dwarven leather, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected stitching in the saddle has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision to any dragon that wears it. The Firebolt boost the dragons' maximal speed by 150 miles. Price on request._

_Price on request_ …Hiccup had to fight the urge to go in and buy it right then and there. He had never wanted anything so badly in his life—but he had never lost a Dragon Racing match on his Nimbus Two Thousand, and what was the point in buying a new saddle, when he had a very good one already? Hiccup didn't ask for the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt. Karita would give him strange looks, but she never barked too loudly.

There were, however, things that Hiccup needed to buy. He went to the Apothecary to replenish his store of potions' ingredients, and as his Viking clothes were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, he visited Madam Mallet’s Viking and Valkyrie's dress and bought new ones. Most important of all, he had to buy his new school books, which would include those for his two new subjects, Forging and Soothsaying.

Hiccup noticed in the window whole stack of books that seemed to be smoking. At a closer look he saw that they were copies of _The Art of the Master Forger_.

As Hiccup entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying towards him.

"Berk?" he said abruptly. "Come to get your new books?"

"Yes," Hiccup said. "I need—"

"Get out of the way," the manager said impatiently, brushing Hiccup aside. He drew on a pair of dragon skin gloves and walked towards stack of Master Forger books.   

"Hang on," Hiccup said quickly, "I've already got one of those."

"Have you?" A look enormous relief spread over the manager's face. "Thank Thor for that, I've already been burnt five times this morning alone."

He shook his head at the stack of Master Forger books. "I'm never stocking them again, never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_ —cost us a fortune, and we never found them…Well, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes," Hiccup said, looking down his booklist. "I need _Unfogging the Future_ , by Urthr the Seeing."

"Ah, starting Soothsaying, are you?" the manager said, stripping off his gloves and leading Hiccup into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to soothsaying. A small table was stacked with volumes such as _Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself against Shocks and Broken Bones: When the Future turns Foul_.

"Here you are," the manager said, as he climbed a set of steps to take down a thick, black-bound book. " _Unfogging the Future_ ; Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods—reading smoke images, read broken bones, screams from brain-dead Vikings…"

But Hiccup wasn't listening. His eye had fallen on another book, which was among a display on a small table: _What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming_.

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," the manager said lightly, looking to see what Hiccup was staring at. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere; it's enough to frighten anyone to death."

But Hiccup continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar…

The manager pressed _Unfogging the Future_ into Hiccup's hands.

"Anything else?" he said.

"Yes," Hiccup said, tearing his eyes away from the dog and dazedly consulting his booklist. "Uh—I need _Intermediate Transfiguration_ and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three_."

While the manager went to get the books, Hiccup looked around the shop and suddenly his foot pressed against something. Next second, something kept on falling on him. He found himself pressed against _something_ , but couldn't see what it was.

"What was that?" the manager asked, poking his head around the corner.

"I think I just found your two hundred copies of _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_ ," Hiccup groaned.

Hiccup emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with his new books under his arms, and made his way back to the Dragon’s Flame, hardly noticed where he was going and bumping into several people.

He tramped up the stairs to his room, went inside and tipped his books onto his bed. Karita jumped up and pawed at them.

Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside. Hiccup could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle Street behind him, and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the basin.

"It can't have been a death omen," he told his reflection defiantly. "I was panicking when I saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent. It was probably just a stray dog…"

He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat.

"You're fighting a losing battle there, dear," his mirror said in a wheezy voice.

* * *

As the days slipped by, Hiccup started looking wherever he went for a sign of Astrid and Ragnar. Plenty of Berk students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near. Hiccup met the Thorston twins, two of his fellow Gryffindors, in _Dazzling Dragon Racing Supplies_ , where they too were ogling the Firebolt; he also ran into the real Fishlegs Ingerman, a huffy boy with skinny legs, outside Flourish and Blotts. Hiccup didn't stop to chat; Fishlegs appeared to have mislaid his booklist, and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother. Hiccup hoped she never found out that he'd pretended to be Fishlegs while on the run from the Dragon Ministry.

Hiccup woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Astrid and Ragnar tomorrow, on the Berk Express. He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he'd have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned.

"Hiccup!"

"HICCUP!"

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean the Chilly's Ice-Cream Parlor; Astrid looking incredibly beautiful, Ragnar with far shorter hair than Hiccup remembered, both waving frantically at him.

"It’s about time!" Astrid said, grinning at Hiccup as he sat down. "We went to the Dragon’s Flame, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Mallet's, and—"

"I got all my school stuff last week," Hiccup explained. "And how come you know I'm staying at the Dragon’s Flame?"

"Dad," Astrid said simply.

Mr Hofferson, who worked at the Dragon Ministry, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Olga.

"Did you _really_ blow up your aunt, Hiccup?" Ragnar asked in bewilderment.

"I didn't mean to," Hiccup said, while Astrid roared with laughter. "I just—lost control."

"It's not funny, Astrid," Ragnar said sharply. He then looked at Hiccup. "Though I couldn't blame your for losing your temper if the things that you told me about her were true. I'm actually more surprised that you weren't expelled."

"So am I," Hiccup admitted. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be _arrested_." He looked at Astrid. "Does your dad know why Fudge let me off?"

"Probably because it's you," Astrid shrugged. "Y’know, you being the famous Hiccup Haddock and all that; they’d go easier on you in any way they could. I'd hate to see what the Ministry would do to my _brothers_ if they blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig them up first, because Mum would've killed them. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're saying at the Dragon’s Flame tonight, too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Ragnar's there as well!"

Ragnar nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Mum dropped me off this morning with all my things for school. I wanted to come sooner, but she kept putting it off until last minute. Truth be told, I think she was a little uneasy. Well, more than usual, anyways."

Hiccup frowned. "What do you mean, _more_ _than usual_?"

"Well, she’s always been a bit anxious about sending me away—I’m the only family she’s got left, after all—but this year she’s been extra skittish. It was quite the battle to convince her to let me come here by myself."

"Well, that's to be expected with Alvin the Treacherous wandering around, isn’t it?" Astrid pointed out.

"Maybe, but I think it goes deeper than that," Ragnar said dismissively. "You should’ve seen her when I showed her the newspaper; I thought she was about to faint. And she’s been having trouble sleeping, too."

Karita stood on her hind legs and placed her front paws on Ragnar’s leg.

Ragnar looked at the small pup, surprised. "What the—"

"Karita, down, " Hiccup ordered. Karita whined, but obeyed.

Astrid reached down and patted the pup’s head. "Who’s this little thing, Hiccup?"

"That’s Karita. I found her on my doorstep a few days into Olga’s visit," Hiccup explained, happy to change the subject. "So, have you guys got all your new books and stuff?"

"Have we got them?" Astrid scoffed in disbelief. She looked at the bag under her chair. "I don't know what Gobber's playing at, giving us books that can burn us with a single touch. The assistant practically burst into tears when we asked for two."

"What's all that, Rag?" Hiccup asked, pointing at not one, but three bulging bags in the chair next to him.

"Did you forget I'm doing more subjects than you?" Ragnar said. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Forging, Soothsaying, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—"

"Honestly, what are you doing Muggle Studies for?" Astrid asked, rolling her eyes at Hiccup. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum's a Muggle! You already know all about Muggles!"

"I'm really interested to see what Vikings point of view is," Ragnar said earnestly. "I'm surprised _you_ didn't want to do it, after your little incident on the telephone."

"I thought we agreed to not talk about that," Astrid muttered under her breath.

"Quick question, Rag; are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year?" Hiccup asked, making Astrid laugh again. Ragnar ignored them.

"I've still got ten Galleons," he said, rummaging through his pocket. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about buying a nice _book_?" Astrid suggested innocently.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Ragnar said, glaring at her. "I'm planning on getting a Terrible Terror. I mean, Hiccup has Sharpshot and Blood-Spatter, and you've got Everwild—"

"I haven't," Astrid said. "Everwild’s a family Terrible Terror. All I've got is Scabbard." She pulled her pet rat out of her pocket. "And I want to get him checked over," she added, placing Scabbard on the table in front of them. "I don't think Outcast Island agreed with him."

Scabbard was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. Karita spotted him, and her muscles tensed.

"There's a magical-creature shop just over there," Hiccup said. He knew Diagon Alley very well by now. "You can see if they've got anything for Scabbard, and Ragnar can get his Terrible Terror."

So they paid for their ice-creams and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie.

There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering or hissing. The Valkyrie behind the counter was already advising a Viking on the care of double-ended newts, so Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar waited, examining the cages.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat, gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a sparkling Viking helmet and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were Terrible Terrors of every color, noisy cages of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and, on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats which were playing some sort of skipping game using their long bald tails.

The double-ended newt Viking left, and Astrid approached the counter.

"It's my rat," she told the Valkyrie. "He's been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Outcast Island."

"Bang him on the counter, dear," the Valkyrie said, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket.

Astrid lifted Scabbard out of her inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better look.

Like nearly everything Astrid owned, Scabbard the rat was second-hand (he had once belonged to Astrid's older brother Askeladden) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone.

"Hm," the Valkyrie said, picking Scabbard up. "How old is this rat?"

"I'm not sure," Astrid said. "He's pretty old. He used to belong to my brother, but we've had him for about twelve years."

"What powers does he have?" the Valkyrie asked, examining Scabbard closely.

"Uh—none," Astrid said. It was true; Scabbard had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The Valkyrie's eyes moved from Scabbard' tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

"He's been through the mill, this one," she said.

"He was like that when Askeladden gave him to me," Astrid said defensively.

"An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so," the Valkyrie said. "Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these…"

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Astrid glared at the rats and muttered, "I hate show-offs."

(Hiccup could personally vouch for that one)

"Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this Rat Tonic," the Valkyrie said, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," said Astrid. "How much is—OUCH!"

Astrid buckled as something huge and orange soared from the top of the highest cage, landed on her head and then propelled itself, snarling at Scabbard.

"NO, AMBER, NO!" the Valkyrie cried, but Scabbard shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor and then scarpered for the door.

"Scabbard, come back!" Astrid shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Hiccup followed with Karita at his heels.

It took them nearly ten minutes to find Scabbard, who had taken refuge under a wastepaper bin outside Dazzling Dragon Racing Supplies. Astrid pulled the trembling rat’s tail out of Karita’s mouth, stuffed him into her satchel and straightened up, massaging her head.

"What _was_ that?"

"It was either a large Terrible Terror or a very small Monstrous Nightmare," Hiccup said.

"Where's Ragnar?"

"He’s probably getting his Terrible Terror."

"Well, I hope he doesn't choose that one."

They made their way back up the crowded street to the Magical Menagerie. As they reached it, Ragnar came out, and it turned out that he indeed had chosen that orange scaled Terrible Terror.

"You _bought_ that monster?" Astrid exclaimed, looking as if she was deciding either to kill it or Ragnar.

"She's _beautiful_ , isn't she?" Ragnar said, glowing.

Hiccup had to agree with that statement. The Terrible Terror had bright orange scales that shone in the sunlight, and its eyes were bright amber color (presumably where she got her name). She was slightly larger than the normal Terrible Terror, but that didn't seem to matter at this point. Now that Scabbard was out of sight, she was purring contentedly in Ragnar's arms.

"Ragnar, that thing nearly scalped me!" Astrid yelled.

"She didn't do that on purpose, did you, Amber?" Ragnar said.

"And what about poor Scabbard?" Astrid grumbled, pointing at her satchel. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me, you forgot your Rat Tonic," Ragnar said, slapping the small red bottle into Astrid's hand. "I already paid for it. And stop _worrying_ ; Amber will be at the stables and Scabbard will be in your dormitory. They’ll be miles away from each other. I don't see a problem. Anyway, that Valkyrie said poor Amber's been in there for ages: no one wanted her for some reason."

"I wonder why," Astrid muttered, as they set off towards the Dragon’s Flame.

They found Mr Hofferson sitting in the bar, reading the _Daily Prophet_.

"Hiccup!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," Hiccup said, as he, Astrid and Ragnar joined Mr Hofferson with all their shopping.

Mr Hofferson put down his paper, and Hiccup saw the now familiar picture of Alvin the Treacherous staring up at him.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" he asked.

"No," Mr Hofferson said, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"I wonder if we'll get a reward if we catch him…" Astrid mused. Hiccup couldn’t blame her for thinking that was a possibility; they had a track record for finding Dark Vikings.

"Don't get your hopes up, dear," Mr Hofferson said. On closer inspection, he looked very strained. "Alvin's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old Valkyrie. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

At that moment Mrs. Hofferson entered the bar, laden with shopping and followed by the twins, Double and Trouble, who were about to start their fifth year at Berk, the newly elected Head Boy, Askeladden, and the Hofferson's youngest child, Egill.

Egill, who viewed Hiccup as his personal hero, seemed even more nervous than usual when he saw him, perhaps because he had saved his life during their last term at Berk. He went very red and muttered "hello" without looking at him. Askeladden, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Hiccup had never met and said, "Hiccup. How nice to see you."

"Hello, Askeladden," Hiccup said, trying not to laugh.

"I hope you're well?" Askeladden said pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

"Very well, thanks—"

"Hiccup!" Double exclaimed, elbowing Askeladden out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply _splendid_ to see you, old friend—"

"Marvelous," Trouble added, pushing his twin aside and seizing Hiccup's hand in turn. "Oh, absolutely _wonderful_ …"

Askeladden scowled.

"That's enough, now," Mrs. Hofferson said.

"Mum!" Double said, as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you—"

"I said, that's enough," Mrs. Hofferson said, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, Hiccup, dear; I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed at the brand-new silver badge on Askeladden’s chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.

"And last," Double muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that," Mrs. Hofferson said, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" Trouble asked, looking revolted at the very idea. "It takes all the fun out of life."

Astrid giggled, and Karita yipped.

"You ought to set a better example for your sister!" Mrs. Hofferson snapped.

"Astrid's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," Askeladden said loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner…"

He disappeared, and Trouble heaved a sigh.

"We tried to shut him in the dungeons at Outcast Island," he told Hiccup. "But Mum spotted us."

* * *

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Sven the Innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor and the seven Hoffersons, Hiccup and Ragnar ate their way through five delicious courses.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" Double asked, as they tucked into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," Mr Hofferson said.

Everyone looked up at him.

"Why?" Askeladden asked curiously.

"It's because of you, Askeladden," Trouble said seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the bonnets, with HB on them—"

"—for Humongous Bighead," Double said.

Everyone except Askeladden and Mrs. Hofferson snorted into their pudding. Further down the table, Hiccup could hear Karita yipping quietly.

"Why is the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Askeladden asked again, in a dignified voice.

"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," Mr Hofferson explained, "and as I work there, they're doing me a favor…"

His voice was casual, but Hiccup couldn't help noticed that Mr Hofferson's ears had gone red, just like Egill's did when he was under pressure.

"Good thing, too," Mrs. Hofferson said briskly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground…You _are_ all packed, aren't you?"

"Egill hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," Askeladden said, in a long-suffering voice. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Egill, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Hofferson called down the table.

Egill scowled at Askeladden.

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Egill and Askeladden were next to Hiccup and Astrid rooms. Hiccup had just closed and locked his own trunk when he heard angry voices through the wall and went to see what was going on.

When he reached number twelve, he found that Astrid had walked out of number thirteen as well.

"You heard it to, huh?" she asked.

"A bit difficult to miss," Hiccup responded.

They found that number twelve's door was ajar, and Askeladden was shouting.

"It was _here_ , on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing—"

"Like you don't polish it enough," Egill muttered.

"What's up?" Hiccup asked.

"My Head Boy badge has gone," Askeladden said, rounding on Hiccup.

"Well, I've lost Scabbard's Rat Tonic," Astrid said, crossing her arms. "I think I might've left it in the bar. Hiccup, can you get it for me while I try and calm these two down?"

"Sure," Hiccup said, and he went downstairs.

Hiccup was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard more angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, he recognized them as Mr and Mrs. Hofferson's. He hesitated, not wanting them to know he'd heard them rowing, when the sound of his own name made him stop, then move closer to the parlor door.

"…make no sense not to tell him," Mr Hofferson was saying heatedly. "Hiccup's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Hiccup like a child. He's thirteen years old and—"

"Bjartr, the truth would terrify him!" Mrs. Hofferson said shrilly. "Do you really want to send Hiccup back to Berk with that hanging over him? For the love of Odin, he's _happy_ not knowing!"

"I don't want to make him miserable; I want to put him on his guard!" Mr Hofferson retorted. "You know what Hiccup and Astrid are like, wandering off by themselves—they've ended up in Raven's Point twice! Twice, Ingrid! And Hiccup mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Night Dragon Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him."

"But he's _not_ dead, he's fine, so what's the point—"

"Ingrid, they say Alvin the Treacherous' mad and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide or hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet_ , we're no near catching Alvin than inventing self-spelling crystal eyes. The only thing we know for sure is what Alvin's after—"

"But Hiccup will be perfectly safe at Berk!"

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Alvin can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Berk."

"But no one's really sure that Alvin's after Hiccup—"

There was a thud on wood, and Hiccup was sure Mr Hofferson had banged his fist on the table.

"Ingrid, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Alvin escaped. The guards told Fudge that Alvin's been talking in his sleep for awhile now. Always the same words: "He's at Berk… he's at Berk." Alvin was deranged enough to kill his daughter, Ingrid, and he wants Hiccup dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Hiccup will bring the Dragon Lord back to power. Alvin lost everything the night Hiccup stopped the Dragon Lord, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…"

There was a silence. Hiccup leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more.

"Well, Bjartr, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Alvis the Noble. I don't think anything could hurt Hiccup at Berk while Alvis is headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the land bridge to the mainland. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

As though summoned by the words, Karita appeared beside Hiccup. She growled lowly.

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Alvin?"

"Alvis isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," Mr Hofferson said heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that… but when you're dealing with a Viking like Alvin, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Hiccup—"

"—then I will never say another word against them," Mr Hofferson said wearily. "It's late, Ingrid, we'd better go up…"

Hiccup heard chairs move. As quietly as he could, he hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlor door opened, and a few seconds’ later footsteps told him that Mr and Mrs. Hofferson were climbing the stairs.

The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. Karita picked it up and dropped it into his open palm. Hiccup waited until he heard Mr and Mrs. Hofferson's bedroom door was closed, and then headed back upstairs with the bottle.

Double and Trouble were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Askeladden dismantling his and Egill's room in the desperate search for his badge.

"We've got it," Double whispered to Hiccup. "We've been improving it."

The badge now read _Bighead Boy_

Hiccup forced a laugh, went to give Astrid the rat tonic, then shut himself in his room and lay down on his bed, stroking Karita.

So Alvin the Treacherous was after him. That explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He'd made Hiccup promise to stay in Diagon Alley where there were plenty of Vikings to keep an eye on him. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take them all to the station tomorrow, so that the Hoffersons could look after Hiccup until he was on the train.

Hiccup lay listening to the muffled shouting next door and wondered why he didn't feel more scared. Alvin the Treacherous had murdered fourteen people with one Fire Curse, including his own daughter; Mr and Mrs. Hofferson obviously thought Hiccup would be panic-stricken if he knew the truth. But Hiccup happened to agree wholeheartedly with Mrs. Hofferson that the safest place on Midgard was wherever Alvis the Noble happened to be. Didn't people always say that Alvis was the only person Drago Bludvist had ever been afraid of? Surely Alvin, as Drago's right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him?

And then there were Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around Berk, Alvin's chances of getting inside seemed remote.

No, all in all, the thing that bothered Hiccup most was the fact that his chances of visiting Berksmeade now looked like zero. Nobody would want Hiccup to leave the safety of the fort until Alvin was caught; in fact, Hiccup suspected his every move would be carefully watched until the danger had passed.

He scowled at the dark ceiling. Did they think he couldn't look after himself? He'd escaped Drago Bludvist three times, he wasn't completely useless…

(Granted, Drago had been an inch from death one of those times, but still!)

Unbidden, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed his mind. _What to do when you know the worst is coming…_

"I'm _not_ going to be murdered," Hiccup said out loud.

"That's the spirit, dear," his mirror said sleepily.

* * *

That night, Hiccup had a strange dream. He had wandered into the Great Hall of Berk, his invisibility cape wrapped around his shoulders. The Great Hall was as grand as ever, but it was dark, lit only by the light of the dawning sun. And it was completely empty.

"Hiccup?"

Or so he thought.

His gaze was pulled toward the table where the teachers sat. There, seated where Alvis the Noble should have been, was a solemn-looking girl, only a year or so older than Hiccup. She was as pale as the dead, with long dark hair and eyes that shone like molten gold. Her hands were in her lap, her leg bouncing with nerves. Hiccup got the overwhelming feeling that she had sat there all night, waiting for him to arrive.

"I’m here," he called.

"Hiccup," she spoke again. Her voice was steady, almost regal. "It's only me, Hiccup, you can take off the cape."

He did as told, casting the cape to the side. The girl stood up and gestured to the now vacant seat. Hiccup took it, and she seated herself on the table beside him.

"How’s Astrid?" she asked

Hiccup chuckled. "Sound asleep. She didn’t want to drink her potion, but she forgot how stubborn I can be."

The girl nodded. "I’m sure Bergljot was grateful for your help."

"What about you?" Hiccup asked. "Have you slept at all tonight?"

The girl bit her lip. "…No, I haven’t. The voices in my head don’t want to shut up anytime soon."

For some reason, Hiccup didn’t find that sentence as concerning as he likely should have.

"Lucky for you, I think I have the cure," he said. He reached into his vest pocket and handed her a small purple vial, which must have held the same potion Astrid had not wanted to drink. Perhaps it didn’t taste good, because the girl frowned at it, turning it over thrice in her hand.

"Hiccup…"

"Drink."

"I can’t drink it here, Hiccup. I’d fall asleep in an instant, and I really don’t feel like letting the entire student body see me asleep on the table."

"I’ll carry you to your dormitory, alright? Nobody need ever know we were here." There was a pleading note in his voice. "Please, just…humor me on this one."

The girl sighed, before popping off the top and taking a gulp. True to her word, she’d barely swallowed when she fell to the side.

Hiccup picked her up—she was smaller than him, as light as air—and carried her out of the Great Hall.

* * *

**Ooh...**

**Highlight of chapter: The dream part, no doubt.**

**I'll be in Hawaii next Monday, so hopefully that'll mean another early chapter. Or maybe it'll mean a really late one. Either way, I'll see you guys then!**


	5. The Dementor

**Greetings from Hawaii!**

**Have any of you seen season five of Race to the Edge? How about that plot twist, eh?**

**...We'll be ignoring it, if it's all the same to you. I like the plot twist and all, but I like my series more.**

**Speaking of which, onwards!**

* * *

_Chapter Five: The Dementor_

* * *

Sven woke Hiccup next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of strong coffee. Trying not to think of his strange dream, Hiccup got dressed and made sure everything was ready. He was just persuading the disgruntled dragons to get back in their cage ( _"Karita gets to go without a cage, why can’t we?"_ ) when Astrid banged her way into the room, braiding her hair and looking very irritable.

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," she growled. "At least we'll be able to get away from Askeladden at Berk. Now he's accusing Egill of dripping coffee on his favorite photo of Clearwater Puddleson. You know," Astrid grimaced, "his _girlfriend_. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…"

"I've got something to tell you," Hiccup began, but they were interrupted by Double and Trouble, who were looking for Egill so they could to congratulate him on infuriating Askeladden twice in under twenty-four hours.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr Hofferson was reading the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Hofferson brought Astrid over to her and began to tell her about a Love Potion she'd made as a young girl. Astrid had plastered an interested smile onto her face, but Hiccup could tell she wanted to run before she heard anymore details.

Hiccup shook his head, sat next to Ragnar, and began to dig into his breakfast.

"What were you saying?" Astrid asked, once she had managed to free herself from her mother.

"Later," Hiccup muttered, as Askeladden stormed in.

Hiccup had no chance to speak to Astrid or Ragnar in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Dragon’s Flame's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Sharpshot, Blood-Spatter, Amber and Harmed, Askeladden's golden-scaled Terrible Terror, perched on top in their cages. Amber didn't seem to like being in her cage; she kept nibbling at the bars with fury in her eyes, screeching curses all the while.

"It's all right, Amber," Ragnar said calmly. "I'll let you out on the train."

_"You had better!"_ she hissed.

"You will not," Astrid snapped. "What about poor Scabbard, eh?"

She pointed to her satchel, from which Scabbard’s long bald tail was just barely poking out.

Mr Hofferson, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside before Ragnar could respond.

"They're here," he said, looking very tense. "Hiccup, come on."

Ragnar blinked. "Why just Hiccup, sir?"

Mr Hofferson didn’t answer him; he became even more tense. "Hurry up now, lad, we’re going to be late."

Astrid frowned. "Dad? Are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine, dear, just…just want to get there on time!"

Hiccup could tell this was a lie, and Astrid could too, judging by her deepening frown. The blonde grabbed a hold of Hiccup’s arm, and together they followed Mr Hofferson across the short stretch of pavement towards the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking Vikings, wearing very smart emerald clothing.

"In you get, you two," Mr Hofferson said, glancing up and down the crowded street.

Hiccup and Astrid got into the back of the car, and were shortly joined by Ragnar and, much to Astrid’s disgust, Askeladden, who was still very huffy about the damage done to his girlfriend’s photo.

The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared to Hiccup's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though Hiccup noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Björn's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their helmets in salute to Mr Hofferson and drove away, somehow managed to jump to the head of an unmoving queue for the traffic lights.

Mr Hofferson kept close to Hiccup's elbow all the way into the station.

"Right, then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so any of us. I'll go through first with Hiccup."

Mr Hofferson strolled towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Hiccup's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Hiccup, he leaned casually against the barrier. Hiccup imitated him.

Next moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Berk Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with Vikings and Valkyries seeing their children onto the train.

Askeladden and Astrid suddenly appeared behind Hiccup. They were panting, and had apparently taken the barrier at a run,

"Ah, there's Clearwater!" Askeladden said, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Astrid caught Hiccup's eye and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Askeladden strode over to the girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge.

Once the remaining Hoffersons and Ragnar had joined them, Hiccup and Astrid led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Sharpshot, Blood-Spatter and Amber in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say goodbye to Mr and Mrs. Hofferson.

Mrs. Hofferson kissed all her children, then Ragnar, and finally Hiccup. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.

"Do take care, won't you, Hiccup?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her satchel and said, "I've made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Astrid…no, they're not corned beef; I know you hate that…Double? Where's Double? Here you are, dear…"

"Hiccup," Mr Hofferson said quietly, "come over here a moment."

He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Hiccup followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Hofferson. Karita trotted behind them.

"There's something I've got to tell you before you leave—" Mr Hofferson said in a tense voice.

"Is it to warn me that the mad murderous barbarian, known as Alvin the Treacherous, is after me and wants to kill me?" Hiccup asked calmly.

Mr Hofferson just stared at him. "How did you know?"

"I—uh—I heard you and Mrs. Hofferson talking last night. I couldn't help hearing," Hiccup added quickly. "Sorry—"

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," Mr Hofferson said, looking anxious.

"No—honestly, it's okay. This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge, and I know what's going on. Everyone wins."

"I…I suppose…Hiccup, you must be very scared—"

"I'm not," Hiccup said sincerely. " _Really_ ," he added, because Mr Hofferson was looking disbelieving. "I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Alvin the Treacherous can't be worse than Drago Bludvist, can he?"

"Hiccup, I knew you were, well, stronger and more iron-willed than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but—"

"Bjartr!" called Mrs. Hofferson, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Bjartr dear, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"He's coming, Ingrid!" Mr Hofferson called, but he turned back to Hiccup and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, I want you to give me your word—"

"—that I'll be a good boy and stay in the fort?" Hiccup said, unable to help feeling irritated.

"Not entirely," Mr Hofferson said, looking more serious than Hiccup had ever seen him. "Hiccup, swear to me you won't go _looking_ for Alvin, and no matter what you hear, you won't take it out on your _friends_."

Hiccup stared. "What?"

There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train slamming all the doors shut.

"Promise me, Hiccup," Mr Hofferson said, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens—"

"Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?" Hiccup asked blankly. "And why would I take anything I might hear out on my friends?"

"Swear to me that whatever you might hear—"

"Bjartr, hurry up!" Mrs. Hofferson cried.

Steam was billowing from the train; it had started to move. Hiccup snatched Karita and ran to the compartment door. Astrid threw it open and stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr and Mrs. Hofferson until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

"I need to talk to you in private," Hiccup muttered to Astrid and Ragnar as the train picked up speed.

"Go away, Egill," Astrid said at once.

"Oh, that's nice," Egill huffed, and he stalked off.

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.

This only had one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar checked on the threshold. The Berk Express was usually reserved for students, and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the Valkyrie who pushed the food trolley.

The stranger was dressed as if he was a sailor, but his clothing was shabby and darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. He looked young, but his dark brown hair and beard were flecked with grey hairs.

"I wonder who he is," Astrid hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window. Karita hopped up into the empty space and curled into a ball.

"Johann the Wanderer," Ragnar said.

"Let me guess," Astrid said, rolling her eyes, "you recognize him from a book."

"Actually, it's on his trunk," Ragnar replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered trunk held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name "Johann the Wanderer" was stamped across one corner in peeling golden letters.

The name felt oddly familiar to Hiccup, but he couldn’t quite remember where he’d heard it.

Astrid looked slightly embarrassed. "Wonder what he teaches?" she mused, frowning at Johann the Wanderer's pallid profile.

"That’s obvious," Ragnar scoffed. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? He must be the new Combat Arts teacher."

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar had already had two Combat Arts teachers, both of whom had only lasted one year. There were rumors that the job was cursed.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," Astrid said doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway…" she turned to Hiccup, "what were you going to tell us?"

Hiccup explained all about Mr and Mrs. Hofferson's argument, and the warning Mr Hofferson had just given him. When he'd finished, Ragnar looked thunderstruck, and Astrid had the straps of her satchel in a death grip.

"So, Alvin the Treacherous escaped to come after _you_?" Ragnar said.

Hiccup nodded. "That about sums it up, yeah."

"I don't know why my dad thinks you'll go after Alvin," Astrid said, puzzled. "You're not _that_ stupid."

"Thank you, Milady, you’re too kind," Hiccup muttered.

"I’d still like to know how he escaped Azkaban," Ragnar said. "I mean, no one has ever escaped there before. And he was a top-security prisoner, too, not just some random crook."

"Hopefully they'll catch him," Astrid said, crossing her arms. "I mean, the Muggles are on the look for him, too…"

"What's that noise?" Ragnar asked suddenly.

A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment.

"It's coming from your trunk, Hiccup," Astrid said, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later she pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Hiccup's clothes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Astrid's hand, and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a _Sneakoscope_?" Ragnar asked, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah…but it's a very cheap one," Astrid said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Everwild’s leg to send it to Hiccup."

Ragnar raised an eyebrow. "And were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?"

"Of course not! Well…I wasn't supposed to be using Everwild. You know she's not really up to long journeys…but how else was I supposed to get Hiccup's present to him?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Hiccup advised, as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

He nodded toward Johann. Astrid stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Björn's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Berksmeade," Ragnar said keenly. "I've heard it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain."

"Yeah, I think it is," Astrid said in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" Hiccup asked.

"It's this sweetshop," Astrid explained. "I've heard they sell every kind of sweet there; everything from Sugar Quills to Pepper Imps."

"I read in _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says the inn was the headquarters for 1612 dwarf rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain."

"There also the pub called the _Green Dragon_ and it serves the best Butterbeer in the entire world," Astrid said, licking her lips in excitement.

(It took all of Hiccup’s willpower to not stare)

"Won't it be nice to get out of the academy for a bit and explore Berksmeade?"

"I bet it will," Hiccup said heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked.

"Did you honestly think my aunt and uncle would fill out my permission form after what happened with Aunt Olga?"

Astrid looked horrified. " _You're not allowed to come?_ But—maybe Phlegma or someone will give you permission—"

Hiccup gave a hollow laugh. Phlegma the Fierce might be the head of Gryffindor house and his godmother, but she was also very strict. There would be no rule-bending with her, no matter how much Hiccup might plead.

"I already asked Fudge if he would sign it, but he said no," he said. "If the chief can’t do it, no one can."

"Then maybe we can ask Double and Trouble, they know every secret passage out of the fort—"

"Astrid!" Ragnar said sharply. "I want to have Hiccup join us as much as you do, but with Alvin the Treacherous on the loose—"

"But if _we're_ with him, Alvin wouldn’t dare—"

"Astrid, Alvin murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street," Ragnar reminded her. "That included his two year old daughter. I doubt Alvin would think twice about murdering us if we're with him."

He was fumbling with Amber's cage as he spoke.

"Don't let her out!" Astrid exclaimed, but too late; Amber flew out of her cage and flew down onto the Astrid’s knees, eyeing Astrid's satchel. Astrid’s satchel began to move, and she shoved Amber angrily away.

"Get out of here!"

"Astrid!" Ragnar said angrily, as Amber growled and landed on Karita’s back.

Astrid was about to answer back when Johann stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

The Berk Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backwards and forwards past the door of their compartment. Amber had now settled silently on the seat beside Karita, her eyes locked onto Astrid's satchel.

At one o'clock, the plump Valkyrie with the food trolley arrived at the compartment door.

"Do you think we should wake him up?" Astrid asked awkwardly, nodding towards Johann. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Ragnar approached Johann cautiously.

"Uh—Sir?" he said.

He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," the Valkyrie said as she handed Hiccup a large stack of cauldron cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he _is_ asleep," Astrid whispered, as the Valkyrie slid the compartment door closed. "I mean—he hasn't died, has he?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Astrid, he's breathing," Ragnar said quietly, taking the cauldron cake Hiccup passed him.

He may not have been very good company, but Johann's presence in their compartment certainly had its uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Snotlout Jorgenson, flanked by his cronies, Hjartán Golson and Falskur Morson.

Snotlout and Hiccup had been enemies ever since they had met on their first train journey to Berk. Ragnar was in a similar position, due to his brains and muggleborn status. Astrid, however, was the unwilling object of Snotlout’s affection; he referred to her almost exclusively as "Darling", and continuously tried to get her to go out with him. Astrid’s loyalty to her family and to Hiccup did not deter him in the slightest, though that was likely because he believed that she was naive, or else playing hard to get.

Snotlout had a proud, sneering face and cold blue eyes. He was in Slytherin house; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Dragon Race teak, the same position that Hiccup played on the Gryffindor team. Hjartán and Falskur seemed to exist solely to do Snotlout's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Hjartán was taller and very thick necked; Falskur had a gormless face with gorilla arms.

"Well, look who it is," Snotlout said in his usual sneering voice, pulling open the compartment door. "Useless."

Hjartán and Falskur chuckled trollishly.

He then looked at Astrid and smirked. "Hello there, darling. Did you have a good summer? I heard your father finally got his hands on a bit of gold. Bet your mother died of shock." He laughed. "You know, darling, that offer I gave you still stands. Just go out with me, and I can give you whatever you want."

"Get lost," Astrid snarled.

Snotlout laughed again. "Not quite ready for that level of commitment? Fair enough. I’m a patient guy. But I can still make you a deal. You must be tired of riding a dragon bareback, right? Give me a kiss and you’ll have a firebolt by the end of the week. Sound good?"

Astrid had never looked madder. She stood up so quickly she knocked Amber's cage to the floor. Johann gave a snort, and Karita bolted upright.

"Who's that?" Snotlout asked, taking an automatic step backwards as he spotted Johann.

"New Combat Arts teacher," Hiccup said, standing up so that he blocked Astrid’s path to Snotlout. "Johann the Wanderer."

Snotlout’s eyes narrowed.

Ragnar smirked. "Something the matter, Snotlout?"

Hiccup knew that, thick as Snotlout was, he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.

"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Hjartán and Falskur, and they disappeared.

Hiccup and Astrid sat down again, Astrid massaging her knuckles.

"I’ve had it with him," Astrid said angrily. "If he talks to me like that again, I'll feed him to his own godsdamn dragon."

Karita growled as though she agreed, then hopped onto Astrid’s lap. The blonde calmed down a little, and began stroking the pup’s fur.

"Careful, Astrid," Ragnar said. "We don't want to get into trouble before we get to the academy."

The rain thickened as the train sped yet further north; the windows were now solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Johann slept.

"We must be nearly there," Astrid said, leaning forward to look past Johann at the now completely black windows.

The words had hardly left her when the train started to slow down.

"We can't be here already," Astrid said, looking confused as she got up and carefully walked past Johann to try and see outside.

"She's right," Ragnar said, checking his watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Hiccup, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" Ragnar’s voice said from behind Hiccup.

"Ouch!" Astrid gasped. "Ragnar, you just stepped on my foot!"

"That wasn’t me!"

Hiccup felt his way back to his seat.

"Do you think we've broken down?"

"I don't know…"

There was a squeaking sound, and Hiccup saw the dim black outline of Astrid, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Astrid said. "I think people are coming aboard…"

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Hiccup's legs.

"Sorry! Do you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry—"

"Hello, Fishlegs," Hiccup said, feeling around in the dark and helping Fishlegs up.

"Hiccup? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea! Sit down—"

There was a loud roar and a yelp of pain; Fishlegs had tried to sit on Amber.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," Ragnar's voice called. Hiccup felt him pass him, heard the door slide open again and then heard a thud and two loud yelps of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's _that_?"

"Egill?"

"Ragnar?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Astrid—"

"Come in and sit down—"

"Not here!" Hiccup said hurriedly. " _I'm_ here!"

"Ouch!" Fishlegs exclaimed.

"Quiet!" a hoarse voice said suddenly.

Johann appeared to have woken up at last. Hiccup could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke, but a hand brushed gently against Hiccup’s, before pulling away, as though badly burned.

Suddenly, bright silver light filled the compartment. Johann speared to be holding a ball of quicksilver. The light illuminated his tired face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said, in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of silver light held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Johann could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the blue light in Johann's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Hiccup's eyes darted downwards, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water…

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Hiccup's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of the black material.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Hiccup felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart…

Hiccup's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downwards, the roaring growing louder…

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't…a thick bright white light was swirling around him, inside him—

"Hiccup! Hiccup! Please, Hiccup, wake up!"

Someone was slapping his face.

"W-what?"

Hiccup opened his eyes. There were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking—the Berk Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Astrid and Ragnar were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Fishlegs and Johann watching. Hiccup felt very sick; when he placed his hand on his forehead, he felt cold sweat on it.

Astrid and Ragnar heaved him back onto his seat. Karita jumped onto his lap, trembling slightly.

"Are you okay?" Astrid asked worriedly, sitting beside him. Her eyes were wide; her whole body seemed to radiate concern.

"Yeah," Hiccup said, looking away from her and towards the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that—that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," Ragnar said nervously.

Hiccup looked around the bright compartment. Egill and Fishlegs looked back at him, both very pale.

"But I heard screaming—"

A loud snap made them all jump. Johann was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Hiccup, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

Hiccup took the chocolate, but didn't eat it.

"What was that thing?" he asked Johann.

"A Dementor," Johann said, now giving chocolate to everyone else. "A demon born of despair and misery. It, like its brethren, guards Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him. Johann crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"

He strolled past Hiccup and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hiccup?" Astrid asked, watching Hiccup anxiously.

"I don't get it… what happened?" Hiccup said, wiping more sweat off his face.

"Well—that thing—the Dementor—stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face)—and you—you—"

She gulped, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

"I don't know what happened, but you were sweating like mad," Ragnar said. He still looked scared, though nowhere near as bad as Astrid. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching—"

"And Johann stepped over you, walked towards the Dementor, and pulled out a dagger," Astrid said. "And he said 'None of us is hiding Alvin the Treacherous under our capes. Go' But the Dementor didn't move, so Johann sent bright white light at it, and it turned round and sort of glided away…"

"It was horrible," Fishlegs said in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how _cold_ it went when it came in?"

"I know," Ragnar said, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "I felt like I'd never be cheerful again…"

Egill, who was huddling in his corner looking nearly as bad as Hiccup felt, gave a small sob; Ragnar went over and patted his arm bracingly.

"But didn't anyone of you—fall off your seat?" Hiccup asked awkwardly.

"No," Astrid said, looking anxiously at Hiccup again. "Egill was shaking like mad, though, and Karita barked like someone had kicked her…"

Hiccup didn't understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he was recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?

Johann had come back. He paused as he entered, looking around and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…"

Hiccup took a bite. To his great surprise, he felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Berk in ten minutes," Johann said. "Are you alright, Hiccup?"

Hiccup didn't ask how Johann knew his name.

"Fine," he muttered, embarrassed.

They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Berksmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get out; Terrible Terrors could be heard roaring for their respective owners. Hiccup felt a burning sensation right above his heart, and knew that his Gryffindor tattoo was being to appear.

It was freezing on the tiny platform. The rain was coming down in icy sheets, and Hiccup knew that even his best fire magic would not last long in the downpour. He took off his vest and wrapped it around Karita, who barked appreciatively.

"Firs’ years this way!" a familiar voice called. Hiccup, Astrid, and Ragnar turned and saw the gigantic outline of Gobber the Belch at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All righ', you three?" Gobber yelled over the heads of the crowd.

They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar followed the rest of school out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Hiccup could only assume, by either invisible horses or invisible dragons, because when they climbed inside one and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Hiccup felt better since the chocolate, but was still weak. Astrid and Ragnar kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again.

As the carriage trundled towards a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with stone dragons, Hiccup saw two more towering hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat, clutched a trembling Karita close to his chest, and closed his eyes until they had passed through the gates. The carriage picked up speed as they rode on the land bridge that connected from the mainland to the fort, which only appeared once a week. Astrid was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt just outside the small Viking village, and Astrid and Ragnar got out.

As Hiccup stepped down (quite the task with a small dog in his arms), a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear.

"You _fainted_ , Useless? Is Fishlegs the Jellylegs telling the truth? You actually _fainted_?"

Snotlout elbowed past Ragnar to block Hiccup's way up the pathway to the village, his face gleeful and his blue eyes glinting maliciously. Karita snarled at him, the same way she had with his relatives.

"Get lost, Snotlout," Astrid growled, cracking her knuckles. Hiccup placed Karita on the ground, lest he need to hold Astrid back.

"See, darling, I warned you," Snotlout said loudly, his smirk widening. "He’s nothing. You can be with a man so much better than _him_. I mean, if he gets frightened by a single Dementor, it only shows how weak he really is. Surely you don’t want to be with someone so pathetic."

Astrid started to reach for her axe, but thought better of it. She instead took Hiccup’s hand, as though to remind Snotlout where her loyalties laid.

"Hiccup’s worth a hundred of you, Snotlout," she said. "And I’d sooner die than betray him."

Even if she didn’t mean it, Hiccup couldn’t help smiling at the words. "Thank you, Milady."

She grinned at him. "No problem, Hic."

Snotlout scoffed. "Oh please—Useless doesn’t have what it takes to be a Viking. It's a miracle he’s even made it this far."

"Is there a problem?" a mild voice asked. Johann had just gotten out of the next carriage.

Snotlout gave Johann an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his clothes and the dilapidated trunk. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Oh, no—uh— _Sir_ ," then he snickered at Hjartán and Falskur, and led them up the steps into the village.

Hiccup picked up Karita again, and the three friends joined the crowd swarming across the pathway. They then began to climb up the stone steps that led to the Great Hall.

The giant oak front doors of the Great Hall stood open. Hiccup followed the crowd towards it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Hiccup! Ragnar! I want to see you both!"

Hiccup and Ragnar turned around, surprised. Phlegma the Fierce, Transfiguration Master and head of Gryffindor house, was calling over the heads of crowd. She was a stern looking Valkyrie who wore her hair in a tight bun under her helmet; her sharp eyes could sense trouble a mile away. Hiccup fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding; Phlegma had a look on her face that made him feel he must have done something wrong.

"There's no need to look so worried—I just want a word in my house," she told them. "Move along there, Astrid."

Only Phlegma could have convinced Astrid not to follow them. As it was, she simply stared as Phlegma ushered Hiccup and Ragnar away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her down the steps that led to the mountain and walked into the mini-village below.

Once they were in her house, a small room along with a large, welcoming fire, Phlegma motioned Hiccup and Ragnar to sit down. Hiccup placed Karita on the floor at his feet, where she dutifully stayed.

Phlegma settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Johann sent a Terrible Terror ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Hiccup."

Before Hiccup could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Bergljot the Helpful, Healer of Berk, came bustling in.

Hiccup, his face turning red, felt very annoyed. It was bad enough that he'd passed out, or whatever he had done, without everyone making all this fuss.

"I'm fine," he said calmly. "I don't need anything—"

"I'm not surprised that's it's you," Bergljot said, shaking her head and looking at him closely. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a Dementor, Bergljot," Phlegma said.

They exchanged a dark look, and Bergljot clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting Dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing Hiccup's hair back and feeling his forehead. "He won't be the only one who collapses, believe me. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate—"

"I'm not delicate!" Hiccup said crossly.

"Of course you're not," Bergljot said absent-mindedly, now trying to take his pulse.

"What does he need," Phlegma said crisply. "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the Infirmary?"

"I'm _fine_ _!_ " Hiccup said, nearly stepping on Karita’s paws as he jumped up. The idea of what Snotlout would say if he had to go to the Infirmary was torture.

"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least," Bergljot said, now trying to peer into Hiccup's eyes.

"I've already had some." Hiccup said. "Johann gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" Bergljot said approvingly. "He always was able to deal with dark creatures well. Top of the class, if I recall correctly. Frankly, I'm surprised Alvis didn't ask him to be the Combat Arts Master sooner."

Hiccup looked up. So Bergljot knew him, and from the way Phlegma had said his name, it sounded as though she knew him as well. The question was where they had met.

"Are you sure you feel alright, Hiccup?" Phlegma asked sharply, bring Hiccup out of his thoughts.

"What? Oh, yes," Hiccup said.

"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Ragnar about his timetable, then we can go down to the feast together."

Hiccup picked up Karita and went back outside with Bergljot, who was already making her way to the mountain. He only had to wait a few minutes; then Ragnar emerged, looking very happy about something, followed by Phlegma, and the group made their way up the stone steps to the Great Hall.

It was a sea of metal helmets; each of the long house tables that stood in front of the four statues of the Founders of Berk was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of torches, which were floating over the tables in mid-air. Alvar the Charmer, who was tiny little Viking with a shock of white hair, was carrying an ancient helmet and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

"It looks like we've missed the Sorting!" Ragnar whispered.

New students at Berk were sorted into houses by trying on the Sorting Helmet, which shouted out the house they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin). Phlegma strode off towards her empty seat at the staff table, which stood in front of the statues of Hiccup’s ancestor and name sake Hiccup Horrendous Haddock I, and his daughter Valhallarama the Dependable. Hiccup and Ragnar set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, towards the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed directly at Hiccup. Had the story of him collapsing in front of the Dementor travelled that fast?

He and Ragnar sat down on either side of Astrid, who had saved them seats. Karita jumped out of his arms and onto the floor.

"What was all that about?" Astrid muttered to Hiccup. "We didn’t do anything that would get us in trouble…"

Hiccup started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the Headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.

Alvis the Noble, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, his right hand was replaced with axe prosthetic and his eyes looked as if they could read your mind with just a simple glance. He was often described as the greatest Viking of the age, and he certainly was, but that wasn't why Hiccup respected him. You couldn't help trusting Alvis the Noble, and as Hiccup watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the Dementor had entered the train compartment.

"Welcome!" Alvis said, the torchlight shimmering on his beard. "To another year at Berk! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"

Alvis cleared his throat and continued. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Berk Express, our academy is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Dragon Ministry business."

He paused, and Hiccup remembered what Mr Hofferson had said about Alvis not being happy with the Dementors guarding Berk.

"They are stationed at the entrance to Berk and are patrolling around the lake," Alvis continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the academy without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Capes," he added blandly, and Hiccup and Astrid glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors."

Askeladden, who was sitting a few seats along from Hiccup, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Hiccup thought he heard a snort of laughter coming from somewhere underneath the table.

Alvis paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome our new Combat Arts teacher, Johann the Wanderer."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Johann clapped hard, Hiccup among them. Johann looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers dressed in their best clothing.

"Look at Asketill!" Astrid hissed in Hiccup's ear.

Asketill the Harsh, Berk’s Potions Master, was staring along the staff table at Johann. It was common knowledge that Asketill wanted the Combat Arts job, but even Hiccup, who hated Asketill, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It beyond anger: it was _loathing_.

Hiccup knew that expression only too well; it was the look Asketill wore every time he set eyes on Hiccup, Ragnar, or Fishlegs.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," Alvis said. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled with food and drink. Hiccup, suddenly feeling ravenous, got a bit of everything he could reach and began to eat.

It was a delicious feast; the Hall echoed with talk, laughter and the clatter of knives and forks. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Gobber. Gobber wasn't a fully qualified Viking; he had been expelled from Berk in his third year, for a crime he had not committed. It had been Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar who had cleared Gobber's name last year.

At long last, when the last morsels of food had melted from the golden plates, Alvis gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

"After the three o’ yeh cleared meh name, I've been allowed teh use magic freely," Gobber said.

"No problem, Gobber," Ragnar said.

"But I won't be showing yeh any favoritism," Gobber said, pretending to be stern.

"We won't have it any other way, Gobber," Hiccup said, smiling.

Soon Phlegma shooed them away.

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. A large portrait of a fat Valkyrie asked them, "Password?"

"Coming through, coming through, do make way!" Askeladden called from behind the crowd. "The new password's _Gleaming swords_!"

"Oh no," Fishlegs said sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided towards their separate staircases. Karita in his arms, Hiccup climbed the spiral stairs with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with five wooden beds and Hiccup, looking around, felt he was home at last.

* * *

**Hurray! Another year at Berk. I'm sure _this_ one will be uneventful.**

**...**

**Highlight of chapter: Snotlout. Don't get me wrong, I hate the little twerp, but he was really fun to write this chapter.**

**Well folks, that's it for today. Tune in next week to see just how horribly Hiccup's first day back goes.**


	6. Spines and Chicken Bones

***plonks down at computer, exhausted and sweaty***

**Today's...Today's been a rough day.**

**Let's move on.**

* * *

_Chapter Six: Spines and Chicken Bones_

* * *

When Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Snotlout, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Snotlout did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit, and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," Ragnar said, right behind Hiccup. "Both of you. Just ignore him; it’s not worth it…"

"Easier said than done, Rag," Hiccup muttered.

"Hey, Useless!" Rubbella Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug, shrieked. "Look out, Useless! The Dementors are coming! _Woooooooo_!"

Hiccup dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to Trouble.

"New third-year timetables," Trouble said, passing them over. "What's up with you, Hic?"

"Snotlout," Astrid grumbled, sitting down on Hiccup's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

Trouble looked up in time to see Snotlout pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down on our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Double?"

"Aye, he nearly soiled himself," Double said, with a contemptuous glance at Snotlout.

Astrid snorted. "Funny he didn’t mention _that_."

"I wasn't too happy myself," Trouble said. "They're horrible things, those Dementors…"

"Sort of freeze your inside, don't they?" Double said.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" Hiccup said in a low voice.

"Forget it, Hiccup," Trouble said bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Double? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been. He came back all weak and shaking…They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners there go mad in weeks."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Snotlout looks after our first Dragon Racing match," Double said. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

The only time Hiccup and Snotlout had faced each other in a Dragon Racing match, Snotlout had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, Hiccup helped himself to some porridge.

Ragnar hadn’t touched anything; he was too busy examining his new timetable.

"Looks like we're starting our new subjects today," he announced with a smile.

"Uh, Rag," Astrid said, frowning as she looked over his shoulder, "they must've messed up your timetable. Look—they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time_."

"Don't worry, I’ll manage. I fixed it all with Phlegma last night."

"But look," Astrid said, still confused, "see this morning? Nine o'clock Soothsaying. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And—" Astrid leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, " _look_ —underneath that, Arithmancy, _nine o'clock_ . I mean, I know you're good, Rag, but no one's _that_ good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Astrid," Ragnar said shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once!"

"Well then how are you—"

"Just pass me the jug," Ragnar said.

"But—"

"Astrid, what's it to you if my timetable is a bit full?" Ragnar snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Phlegma. I’ll be _fine_."

Just then, Gobber entered the Great Hall. He was hobbling along with some thick leather over his shoulders.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pushing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' lesson o’ the year! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting everythin' ready…"

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still carrying the leather on his shoulder.

"Wonder what he's getting ready?" Astrid said, curious.

The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson. Astrid checked her timetable.

"We'd better go, look, Soothsaying's at the very top of the mountain. It'll take us at least ten minutes to get there…"

They finished their breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Double and Trouble and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Snotlout did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Hiccup into the Entrance Hall.

The journey through the mountain to the top of its peak took longer than Astrid said it would. Two years at Berk hadn't taught them everything about the fort, and they had never been up on the mountain's peak before.

"There's—got—to—be—a—short—cut," Hiccup panted, as they climbed their seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of a mountain side handing on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," Ragnar said, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," Astrid said. "That corridor leads downwards."

Hiccup watched the painting. A purple scaled Gronckle had just ambled onto the mountain side and was eating a big chunk out of it. Hiccup was used to the subject of Berk painting moving around and leaving their frames to visit each other, but he always enjoyed watching them.

A moment later, a short, squat Viking soldier had appeared into the picture after his Gronckle. By the look of his bruised legs, he had just fallen off. Following behind him was a young woman with vibrant red curls and emerald green eyes. Hiccup recognized her at once; it was Valhallarama the Dependable, his ancestor and the only daughter of Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror. She smiled upon seeing him.

"Aha!" the Viking soldier yelled, seeing Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar. "What villains are these that trespass upon my private lands, when I’ve a lovely lady in my presence?! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Well, pull your weapon out, you mutton heads!"

They watched in astonishment and amusement as the little Viking soldier pulled out a large battle axe and began swing it around violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the axe was too heavy for him; one of his wild swings made him overbalance, and he landed face down in the grass.

Valhallarama shook her head. _"Not ter bright, this one,"_ she informed them in the language of the dragons, the skill she had passed down to almost all of her descendants, Hiccup included.

_"I can see that,"_ he growled back. Astrid, who could also understand the language (how, no one was certain), nodded in agreement.

"Uh, are you alright sir?" Ragnar asked, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you fool! Back, I'm warning you!"

The Viking soldier seized his battle axe again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade wedged itself in an open crack on the floor and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally he had to flop back down onto the floor and removed his helmet to wipe the sweat off his brow.

Valhallarama rolled her eyes. _"Yeh might want teh let Astrid do the talking. He tends teh listen teh pretty girls more than he does boys."_

_"Good idea. Astrid, you talk to him,"_ Hiccup said.

Astrid didn't seem to like the idea, but she nodded and walked up to the picture frame anyway.

"We're sorry to trespass, sir," Astrid said with a smile that was obviously killing her, "but we're looking for a way to get onto the mountain peak. You don't know the way, do you?"

The Viking soldier looked up at Astrid and quickly stood up. He then began to flatten his hair to make himself more presentable and placed his helmet back on his head.

"Anything to help a beautiful young maiden like yourself," the Viking soldier said, giving her a short bow. Valhallarama pretended to throw up. With difficulty, Hiccup suppressed a snort.

The Viking soldier gave the axe another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the Gronckle, and cried, "On foot then, my fellow soldiers and young maidens! On! On!"

And he ran into the left hand side of the frame and out of sight.

"On," Valhallarama deadpanned.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his war cries. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead. Valhallarama followed on the Gronckle’s back, looking irritable.

"Don't give into fear, the worst is yet to come!" the Viking soldier yelled, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in Viking dresses, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow, spiral staircase.

"That’s not what yeh say, yeh moron!" Valhallarama hissed.

Puffing loudly, Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them, and knew they had reached the classroom.

"Farewell, milady!" the Viking soldier cried, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking priests. "If ever you have need of my services, simply call upon Cadogan the Gallant!"

"Don't worry, I will," Astrid muttered, as the Viking soldier was snagged by the Gronckle and carried away, "Hopefully that'll never happen."

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing; Astrid nudged Hiccup and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trap door with a brass plaque on it.

"Gothi the Elder, Soothsaying Master," Hiccup read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to his question, the trap door suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Hiccup's feet. Everyone went quiet.

"After you," Astrid said, grinning, so Hiccup climbed the ladder first.

He emerged outside in the cold wind. There wasn't much, but the wooden platform he was on and an old shack opposite him. Then he noticed above him were Terrible Terror of all colors, flying around and chasing each other like a pack of hunting dogs. He saw an open fire that was burning away merrily, and a barrel full of what looked to be chicken bones.

Astrid appeared at Hiccup's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Astrid said.

Suddenly the shack's door opened and began to pour out smoke. Every head turned as the smoke went around their ankles.

What Hiccup saw next made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Gothi—for that was clearly who she was—was a short, frail Valkyrie who looked even older than Alvis the Noble, if that was possible; there were thick deep wrinkles on her face, and her hair was silver. In her hand she carried a staff that had her crystal eye imbedded in it.

She looked at the students, who were all feeling very nervous, and banged her staff on the floor. Next second, smoke appeared out of the staff and poured into her mouth.

"Welcome," she said in a soft, misty voice. "You must excuse the smoke. After my last encounter with the Dragon Lord, I lost the use of my voice. Now, I have to use my Smoke Magic to speak."

Hiccup wasn't sure what was more alarming; that Drago Bludvist had caused a little old lady to lose her voice, or that she had to use her magic to speak.

"Now, my dears, sit in front of the fire and we'll begin," Gothi said, and they all moved to the fire and sat around it. The fire was nice and warm, and they couldn’t even tell if the wind was blowing or not.

"Welcome to Soothsaying," Gothi said, the only one still standing. "I am Gothi the Elder, a Völva and one of the select few that have ever mastered smoke magic."

Agatha Berdis raised her hand. "Um, ma’am? What’s a Völva?"

Gothi smiled. "A Völva, my dear, is a vessel of the Norns. We are their mouthpiece, used to speak prophecies and guide any who come to us in need of guidance. We are rarely born, and few ever manage to reach adulthood. In fact…" The smile turned sad. "Alvin the Treacherous’ daughter was a Völva. She would have sat amongst you, learned and grown up with you all. As it is…Well, there is no use dwelling on such things."

Nobody said anything in answer to this.

Gothi hobbled about as she spoke. "So you all wish to study the art of Soothsaying, arguably the most difficult of all magical arts to master. I must warn you that, in order to learn, you must keep an open mind. The books you have with you, while certainly helpful, will only take you so far in this field…"

At these words, both Hiccup and Astrid glanced at Ragnar, who was clearly startled by the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Soothsaying is a skill few can ever hope to obtain. Many Vikings and Valkyries, talented though they are in the area of fighting, dragon riding or magic, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Gothi went on, looking at all the nervous faces. "And I can see many great young Viking and Valkyries that'll make a big impact on the world. For example," she said suddenly to Fishlegs, who was shaking like a leaf, "I see that you will one day find the courage to stand up for your friends."

"Are you sure?" Fishlegs squeaked, now sounding even more nervous.

"I am seldom wrong," she said with a small smile. "You certainly have potential, and to reach it, you must trust the next person who offers to help you."

She then turned to Ragnar. "Ah, you are very powerful, far more than you believe, and with your intelligence and skills you could very well change the world…But you sorely lack wisdom. And one day, that will lead you to make a grave mistake, which you shall regret for the rest of your life."

Ragnar didn't say anything, but he looked slightly unsure.

Gothi then looked at Astrid. "Now you, my dear, have a great fire in your heart, a burning passion few could replicate. You are strong, courageous…and you are often overshadowed by the ones you care about the most. Sometimes you believe it to be your lot in life, to never be the center of attention. But to stick by them, to be loyal until the bitter end, will bequeath a reward beyond compare."

Gothi then looked at Hiccup, gave him a knowing look, and turned to face the class. "Now, this year we'll be covering the basic methods of Soothsaying. The first term will be reading the cracks with in chicken bones. After that we shall be studying omens. Then, in the summer term, we’ll be trying to look for shapes within fire. One will join our numbers when the dragons return, and around Thor's day another will leave us forever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Gothi seemed unaware of it.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a chicken bone within the barrel and place it in the fire here," she said, gesturing to the fire in front of them, "then wait about five minutes and give the bone to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future._ I shall be helping and instructing."

Everyone began to choose chicken bones from the barrel and tossed them into the fire. From where Hiccup was sitting it looked extremely difficult trying to figure out what the cracks in the bones meant and from the looks of it everyone was having that trouble.

When it was finally Hiccup and Astrid’s turn, they selected their chicken bones and approached the fire. Astrid went first and tossed the bone into the fire. Five minutes later, Gothi pulled the bone out and handed it to Hiccup.

"Right," Astrid said, as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What does my bone say?"

"Well, it's not very talkative at the moment," Hiccup said, earning a snort of laughter.

"Focus, dear," Gothi said, though not unkindly.

"Right, this crack kind of looks like a wonky sort of cross…" Hiccup said, consulting _Unfogging the Future_. "According to the book, that means you're going to have 'trials and suffering'—er, sorry about that—but this crack here looks like the sun. And that means 'great happiness'…so in short, you're going to suffer but be very happy…"

"I think your Inner Eye needs a pair of glasses or something," Astrid snickered.

"Let me have a look, my dears," Gothi said and looked at Astrid’s bone. "Well, my dear, if I'm reading this right, you will indeed suffer a great personal loss, but that pain will be lessened by someone who loves you more than anything in the world."

Many of the girls went _aww_ . But Hiccup was more focused on Gothi. Was it just his imagination, or had Gothi been looking at him when she said _someone who loves you_?

"Okay, your turn Hiccup," Astrid said, clearly trying not to blush.

Hiccup pulled out of his thoughts and tossed his bone into the flames. Then something strange happened, his bone immediately began to crack and the next minute it exploded. The shards flew out and landed at Hiccup’s feet.

Everyone gasped and turned to Gothi, who looked as stunned as they were.

"Wh—what does _that_ mean?" Hiccup asked her.

Gothi looked at Hiccup fearfully and said, "It means, my dear…that you have a great enemy."

"Three guesses who," Ragnar said in a loud whisper. Gothi raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry, but it’s true," Ragnar said. "I mean, everyone knows about Hiccup and the Dragon Lord."

"Yes, but this goes deeper," Gothi said. "Because young Hiccup here is going to face a dangerous trail, and will walk on a dangerous path…"

(He wasn’t already?)

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Gothi, who looked at all the broken bone pieces.

"There something else, isn't there," Hiccup said.

"Knowledge isn't always power, my dear, it's also a burden," Gothi said. "You would be happier if I didn’t tell you…"

"What is it," Wartihog said at once. Everyone had gotten to their feet, and slowly, they crowded around Hiccup and Astrid, trying to get a better look at the bone pieces on the floor.

"Shouldn’t he know?" Astrid said to Gothi. "It's his future, after all."

"Oh, very well," Gothi said. "I see that his first dangerous trail involves a large black dog. There is a woman beside it, as pale as the dead. She holds a sword pointed downwards, clearly a sign of far off battle. And her expression bares great sadness…If I’m not mistaken, I am seeing the Signpost of Valhalla."

Hiccup could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Tuffnut and Ruffnut looked clueless as ever, and Agatha Berdis looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"What's the Signpost of Valhalla?" Hiccup asked,

"The Signpost of Valhalla, my dear, is the worst omen there is—the omen of _death_!" Gothi said. "To those who have claimed to have seen it, it often takes the form of a giant, spectral dog. It has also been known to appear as a pale woman, said to be a handmaiden of the goddess Hel. But to have both at the same time…"

Hiccup's stomach lurched. That dog on the cover of _Death Omens_ in Flourish and Blotts—the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent, the dog that Karita had run towards…and the girl he had seen in a dream, the girl who had been _as pale as the dead_ …Agatha Berdis clapped her hands to her mouth, too. Everyone was looking at Hiccup; everyone except for Ragnar, who had pushed his way through the crowd and was peering closely at the bone pieces.

"Are you _sure_ it's a Signpost of Valhalla?" he asked Gothi. "They just look like bits of bone to me."

Gothi patted his back and said, "My dear, if you can’t keep an open mind, you'll never get anywhere in this subject." Then she turned back at the bone pieces. "Still, you could be right. Soothsaying isn't always accurate."

"Has everyone finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not?" Hiccup asked sharply, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," Gothi said, in her mistiest voice. "Yes…please pack away your things…"

Silently the class packed their books and closed their bags. Even Astrid was avoiding Hiccup's eyes.

"Until we meet again," Gothi said faintly.

* * *

Later at lunch in the Great Hall, Hiccup couldn't help but think about what Gothi had said, and Astrid was still not talking to him.

"Astrid, I've never seen you like this," Ragnar said at last. "Since when do you get scared?"

"I'm not scared!" Astrid said loudly. Then she looked at her sandwich and said, quietly, "I'm just worried about Hiccup."

"Astrid, you heard what Gothi said," Ragnar said. "It isn’t always accurate."

Astrid took a bite out of her sandwich.

"Hiccup," she said, in a low, serious voice, "you _haven't_ seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Uh—yeah, I have," Hiccup said. "I saw one the night I left the Dalvors."

Astrid then dropped her sandwich, her face turning pale.

"It could have been a stray," Ragnar said calmly.

Astrid looked at Ragnar as though he had gone mad.

"Ragnar, the Signpost of Valhalla only shows itself to brave warriors that are about to die," she said. "My—my Mum told me that my Uncle Finn saw one and—and he died fighting against a Flightmare not even a week later!"

"Oh, come on," Ragnar said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of yak milk. "It could have easily been a coincidence."

"Rag, I'll admit that I thought it was just an old wives tale," Astrid said. "But now…now I'm not so sure."

"Well I am," Ragnar said. "My mum and I saw a big black dog in our garden, and _we're_ still alive."

"You did? When was this?" Hiccup asked.

"Just a few days after we returned from our holiday," Ragnar said. "Startled my mum, but it just walked away after that. Weeks later, all of us are fine. See? Nothing to worry about."

Astrid shook her head in disbelief at Ragnar, who opened his satchel, took out his new Arithmancy book and propped it open against the milk jug.

"Honestly, I don’t think Soothsaying is all that important," he said, searching for his page. "It's really just a lot of guesswork."

"I think finding out about the Signpost of Valhalla is important," Astrid said hotly.

"You said it yourself; the Signpost of Valhalla is an old wives tale," Ragnar said coldly. "There are no facts to back it up. Gothi’s just a good actress."

Astrid’s eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute…this has nothing to do with the signpost! It's about Gothi! You’re just bitter because she doesn’t think you’re good at Soothsaying!"

She had touched a nerve.

"That’s not true!" Ragnar snapped, slamming his book on the table so hard that his jug of milk went flying. "It's just a lousy subject, with an even lousier teacher! I don’t think I’ll be taking it again next year! I have more important subjects to focus on, like my Arithmancy class!"

He snatched up his satchel and stalked away.

Astrid frowned after him.

"What's he talking about?" she said to Hiccup. "He hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet…"

* * *

Hiccup was pleased to get out of the fort after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale grey, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Forging class.

Astrid and Ragnar weren't speaking to each other. Hiccup walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Gobber's workshop on the edge of the fort. It was only when he spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Snotlout was talking animatedly to Hjartán and Falskur, who were chortling. Hiccup was quite sure he knew what they were talking about.

Gobber was waiting for his class at the door of his workshop. He stood proudly, his Hotburple with Grump sleeping near the forge, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called, as the class approached. "Get behind yer worktables! Now I expect that yeh've read yeh books—"

"And how do we do that?" the snarling voice of Snotlout said.

"Didn't yeh try ter read them with yeh dragon-skin gloves?" Gobber asked. "It plainly says at the back o’ the cover 'must be read with dragon-skin gloves'."

"Uh, no," Snotlout said dumbly. "But what idiot designed a book that could burn your skin off?"

"The author," Gobber deadpanned. He then looked at the rest of the class. "Wait here; there's one thing I need teh get before we can start the lesson."

Gobber then exited the workshops and out of sight.

"Gods, this place is going to the dogs," said Snotlout loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father will have a fit when I tell him—"

"Then why did you want to do the class?" Hiccup asked.

"Careful, Useless, there's a Dementor behind you—"

"Watch it, Snotlout," Gobber’s voice said. They looked around and saw Gobber had returned with a Whispering Death in tow, "yeh might find Slytherin will have a few less points if yeh don’t."

"Oh, that’s a Whispering Death!" Fishlegs said eagerly.

"Correct, Fishlegs. His name is Groundsplitter," Gobber said. "Now, raise yeh hand if yeh've had experience with a Whispering Death?"

Only Ragnar, who rode a Whispering Death called Silence, raised his hand.

Gobber sighed. "Thought as much. That idiot Flashburn was supposed to teach all o’ you about them last year, but oh well."

"Mind telling us what is so important about a Whispering Death?" Snotlout asked dully.

"Because yeh're going teh be making a saddle fer old Groundsplitter here," Gobber explained. Everyone looked up immediately. But then he added, "Just a _plain_ saddle." Everyone sighed in disappointment.

"Now, the firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' saddles is that yeh have ter make sure it's suited ter the dragon’s needs," Gobber said. "Also, when it comes to Whispering Deaths, the last thing yeh want ter do is insult them, especially Groundsplitter here. It might be the last thing yeh do."

Snotlout, Hjartan and Falskur weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone, and Hiccup had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

"A saddle also has ter be perfectly balanced, nothing unnecessary added. Now, everything yeh’ll need should be on yer worktables. I'll be wanderin’' around, givin’ advice when necessary. Turn teh pages three and four in yer book ter give yeh some idea on the makin’ o’ a saddle. Yeh'll have half an hour on yer saddles, starting—now!"

The next half an hour was a blur to Hiccup. Making the saddle seemed like second nature to him; he hardly had to look at his book at all.

"Times up!" Gobber announced. "Let's see what yeh’ve done."

Hiccup looked at his saddle and realized with a jolt that it was practically finished. There were some loose ends here and there, but other than that it was okay. Looking at the saddles, he saw that only a handful of the class had gotten as far as he had, including Ragnar. Astrid didn't do too badly either, despite the fact that she had almost given up on "the godsdamn thing" about halfway through. Even the Thorston twins had done a good job; or at least, they had done better than Snotlout and his goons. Their saddles just looked like a large lump of leather with straps poorly sewn on it.

"Righty ho, who wants ter go and put their saddle on Groundsplitter here?" Gobber said, turning his back to bring Groundsplitter forward.

Most of the class backed away in answer. Even Astrid and Ragnar appeared to be nervous.

Hiccup spoke without his brain’s permission. "I’ll do it."

There was an intake of breath from behind him, and Agatha Berdis squeaked, "Ooooooh, no, Hiccup, remember your chicken bone!"

Hiccup ignored her. He also ignored everyone else’s worried looks.

"Good man, Hiccup," Gobber said happily. "The rest o’ yeh could learn a thing or two from him."

Now a couple people looked embarrassed and angry, Snotlout among them.

"Easy, now, Hiccup," Gobber said quietly, as Hiccup approached Groundsplitter. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink…"

Hiccup outstretched his hand and looked at Groundsplitter's pale white eyes without blinking. Then Groundsplitter moved forwards and pressed his snout into the palm of Hiccup's hand.

"Well done, Hiccup!" Gobber said, ecstatic. "Right then—yeh can put yer saddle on him now."

Hiccup began to strap his saddle on Groundsplitter's serpent-like body. Once he finished strapping the saddle, he backed away and marveled at his work.

"Not ter shabby, Hiccup," Gobber said, examining the saddle carefully. "A bit rough here and there, but impressive fer a first attempt. Twenty points teh Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindors cheered loudly, while the Slytherins just stood there sulking.

"Right, let's give it a test ride," Gobber said.

That was more than Hiccup had bargained for. He was used to riding dragons by now, sure, but he rarely rode _alone_ on any other dragon than Toothless. And he had never flown on a Whispering Death.

Before he could protest, Gobber had picked him up and placed him on Groundsplitter's back. "Go on then!" Gobber roared, slapping Groundsplitter on what Hiccup guessed was his hindquarters.

Groundsplitter took off; Hiccup had just enough time to grab hold of the reins before he was soaring upwards.

Groundsplitter flew him once around the fort and then headed back to the ground. Hiccup wasn't sure how this was going to end. Toothless had legs, Groundsplitter did not. Hiccup closed his eyes, but felt nothing. When he opened them he saw they had landed safely to the ground.

_"I haven’t been able to do that in a while!"_ the dragon growled as Hiccup slid off.

"Good work, Hiccup!" Gobber exclaimed, as everyone except Snotlout, Hjartán and Falskur cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Hiccup's success, the rest of the class brought their saddles cautiously to the front. Gobber inspected every saddle as they were placed on Groundsplitter and would award points based on how good it was made. Fishlegs was awarded ten points, despite the fact that he backed away from Groundsplitter when he looked at him. Ragnar had done a good enough job to earn fifteen points (Groundsplitter had given him a ride as well, twice as long as Hiccup’s, and he had seemed very reluctant to let Ragnar get off). Astrid's was good enough for ten points. And the Thorston twins earned five pointed between them. Hiccup watched as saddle after saddle was placed on Groundsplitter.

But then it was Snotlout's turn. When he was about to place his poorly-made saddle on Groundsplitter, the Whispering Death backed away, apparently knowing the saddle was poorly made.

"What's wrong with you?!" Snotlout yelled, loud enough for everyone to hear him. "If you liked Useless' stupid saddle, you're going to like mine! You ugly lump of dragon dung!"

It happened in a flash of steely spikes; Groundsplitter fired several large spines from his body straight at Snotlout. He let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Gobber and Grump, who had woken up, were wrestling Groundsplitter out of the workshop. After they accomplished that, Gobber approached Snotlout, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his arm.

"I'm dying!" Snotlout yelled, as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Oh, don't make such a fuss, yer not dyin'!" Gobber said as he picked Snotlout up and looked at the class. "Class dismissed!"

As Gobber passed, Hiccup saw that there a long, deep gash in Snotlout's arm; blood splattered the grass and Gobber ran with him, into the village.

Very shaken, the Forging class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Gobber.

"They should sack him straight away!" Rubbella Parkinson said angrily.

"It was Snotlout's fault!" Astrid snapped. Hjartán and Falskur flexed their muscles threateningly.

"Well, I think that was the best lesson ever!" Tuffnut cried.

"Yeah, it was cool!" Ruffnut agreed.

"You're not helping, guys," Hiccup groaned.

"Well, I'm going to see if he's okay!" Rubbella said, and they all watched her run into the village. The Slytherins, still muttering about Gobber, headed up the stone steps to the Great Hall, no doubt returning to their common room; Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar decided to return to their common room.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Ragnar asked.

"Of course he will; Bergljot was able to regrow my bones overnight," Hiccup said. "Snotlout's injury will only take her a second."

"Trust Snotlout to ruin everything," Astrid grumbled.

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinner time. They saw Gobber heading to the staff table and quickly rushed to him.

"Are you alright, Gobber?" Hiccup asked.

"I'm fine," Gobber said. "But Snotlout is sayin' he's still agony."

"He's faking it," Hiccup said at once. "Bergljot can heal worse injuries in a second."

"I know that, but it's not easy teh prove," Gobber said. "The gov'nors have been told, and they think I should have used a dragon that yeh lot was taught about."

"It's all _Snotlout_ 's fault!" Astrid said.

"Yeah, we're witnesses," Ragnar said. "You taught us how to handle a Whispering Death. You specifically told us not to insult Groundsplitter. It's not your fault that Snotlout didn't listen."

"Thanks fer the support," Gobber said, sniffing. "Oh, and I meant teh tell yeh this after the lesson."

"What?" they asked at the same time.

"I don't want the three o’ yeh teh visit me after dark," Gobber said. "Not until Alvin's been caught, at least."

"But he hasn't gotten past the Dementors," Hiccup said.

"I know, but I'm not taking any risks," Gobber said, and then he walked towards the staff table.

The three friends all looked at each other, unsure what to say. At last, Astrid shrugged and said,

"Well…we’ve had worse first days back…"

* * *

**True.**

**Highlight of chapter: Gothi's predictions. Actually, scratch that, Gothi in general. The woman is a treasure and I love her.**

**Well folks, school starts on Wednesday, and I just got back forty minutes ago, so I should probably go to bed now. See you next week, where I shall be back to my old self (I hope).**


	7. The Boggart in the Wardrobe

**( _PSST_. You didn't hear it from me, but Song of the Fallen'll be getting an update next Friday. Stay tuned for that)**

* * *

_Chapter Seven: The Boggart in the Wardrobe_

* * *

Gryffindor and Slytherin were halfway through double Potions when Snotlout reappeared. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Hiccup's opinion, as though he was the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

"How is it, Snotlout?" Rubbella simpered. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," Snotlout said, putting on a brave snort of grimace. But Hiccup saw him wink at Hjartán and Falskur when Rubbella had looked away.

"Settle down, settle down," Asketill said idly.

Hiccup and Astrid scowled at each other; Asketill wouldn't have said "settle down" if _they_ 'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But Snotlout had always been able to get away with anything in Asketill's classes; Asketill was Head of Slytherin house, and generally favored his own students before all others.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Snotlout set up his cauldron right next to Hiccup and Astrid, so that they were preparing ingredients on the same table.

"Sir," Snotlout called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—"

"Miss Hofferson, cut up Jorgenson's roots for him," Asketill said, without looking up.

Astrid's face went brick red with anger.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," she hissed at Snotlout.

Snotlout smirked across the table.

"Darling, you heard Asketill; cut up these roots for me."

Before Astrid could attempt anything, Hiccup leaned over and muttered "It’ll be over sooner if you don’t respond" into her ear. The blonde sighed and picked up her dagger, pulling Snotlout's roots towards her and chopping them in a way that made them all noticeably different sizes.

"And, sir, I'll need this Shrivelfig skinned," Snotlout said, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Haddock, you can skin Snotlout's Shrivelfig," Asketill said, giving Hiccup the look of loathing he reserved for the few he especially hated.

Hiccup took Snotlout's Shrivelfig just as Astrid finished cutting up the roots, which now looked more like leftovers than ingredients. He skinned the Shrivelfig as fast as he could without hurting himself and flung it back across the table at Snotlout without speaking. Snotlout was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Gobber lately?" he asked.

"None of your business," Astrid said shortly, without looking up.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Snotlout said, in a tone of mock sorrow. "My dad's not very happy about my injury—"

"Keep talking, Snotlout, and I'll give you a _real_ injury," Astrid snarled.

"—he's already complained to the school governors. _And_ to the Dragon Ministry. Dad's got a lot of influence, you know. And with a lasting injury like this"—he gave a huge, fake sigh—"who knows if my arm will ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," Hiccup said, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try and get Gobber in trouble."

"Well," Snotlout said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "not entirely, Useless. There are… _other_ benefits to this." He smirked. "Darling, slice my caterpillars for me."

A few cauldrons away, Fishlegs was in trouble. Fishlegs regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, mainly because he was so afraid of Asketill that he always made mistakes. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had instead turned—

"Orange, Ingerman," Asketill said, ladling some up and allowing it to splash into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. " _Orange_. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Ingerman?"

Fishlegs was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," Ragnar said, "please, I know how to make this potion, I could help Fishlegs put it right—"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Wicket," Asketill said coldly, and Ragnar turned red. "Ingerman, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your Terrible Terror and see what happened. Perhaps _that_ will encourage you to do it properly."

Asketill moved away, leaving Fishlegs breathless with fear.

"Hey, Hiccup," Wartihog said, leaning over to borrow Hiccup's brass scales, "have you heard? _Daily Prophet_ this morning—they reckon Alvin the Treacherous’ been sighted."

"Where?" Hiccup and Astrid said quickly. On the other side of the table Snotlout looked up, listening closely.

"Not too far from here," Tuffnut piped up, looking a bit too excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she 'phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Dragon Ministry got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here…" Astrid repeated, looking significantly at Hiccup. She turned around and saw Snotlout watching closely. "What, Snotlout? Need something else skinned?"

But Snotlout's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Hiccup. He leaned across the table.

"Thinking of trying to catch Alvin single-handed, Useless?"

"Yeah, that's right," Hiccup said offhandedly.

Snotlout's thin mouth was curving in a mean smile.

"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy; I'd be out there looking for him."

"What the Helheim are you talking about?" Astrid said roughly.

"Don't you _know_ , Useless?" Snotlout breathed, his pale eyes narrowed.

"Know what?"

Snotlout let out a low, sneering laugh.

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself; it’s the Viking thing to do."

" _What are you talking about_?" Hiccup said, getting annoyed, but at that moment Asketill called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now. This potion needs to stew before it can be drunk; clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Ingerman's…"

Hjartán and Falskur laughed openly, watching Fishlegs sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. He was staring under the table, apparently unable to look at his work, and was mouthing the instructions.

Hiccup and Astrid packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.

"What did Snotlout mean?" Hiccup muttered to Astrid, as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the stone dragon's mouth. "Why would I want revenge on Alvin? He hasn't done anything to me—not yet, at least."

"He's making it up," Astrid said savagely, "he's trying to make you do something stupid…"

The end of the lesson in sight, Asketill strode over to Fishlegs, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather ‘round," Asketill said, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Ingerman's Terrible Terror. If he managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his Terrible Terror is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watch fearfully. Most of the Slytherins looked excited. Asketill picked up Iggy in his left hand, and dipped a small spoon into Fishlegs' potion, which was now a shimmering bottle green. He trickled a few drops down Iggy’s throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Iggy gulped; then there was a small _pop_ , and Iggy was now the size of a tadpole, crawling around Asketill’s palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Asketill, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his leather vest, poured a few drops on top of Iggy and he reappeared suddenly, back to normal size.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor," Asketill said, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I _told_ you not to help, Wicket. Class dismissed."

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar climbed the steps to the Entrance Hall. Hiccup was still thinking about what Snotlout had said, while Astrid was seething about Asketill.

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you tell him off, Ragnar? You should've said Fishlegs managed to do it all by himself!"

Ragnar didn't answer. Astrid looked around.

"Where did he…?"

Hiccup turned, too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.

"He was right behind us," Astrid said, frowning.

Snotlout passed them, walking between Hjartán and Falskur. He smirked at Hiccup, blew Astrid a kiss, and disappeared.

"There he is," Hiccup said.

Ragnar was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand was clutching his satchel, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of his shirt.

"How did you do that?" Astrid asked.

"What?" Ragnar said, joining them.

"One minute you were right behind us, and next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Ragnar looked slightly confused. "Oh—I, uh, I had to go back for something. Oh no…"

A seam had split on Ragnar's satchel. Hiccup wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Astrid asked him.

"You know very well how many subjects I'm taking," Ragnar said breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But—" Astrid turned over the books he had shoved into her arms, looking at the covers—"you haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Combat Arts this afternoon."

"Oh, yes," Ragnar said vaguely, but he packed all the books back into his satchel just the same, "I hope there's something good for lunch—I'm starving," he added, and he marched off towards the Great Hall.

"Do you ever get the feeling that you’re a couple of steps behind Ragnar?" Astrid asked Hiccup.

"More like an entire staircase," Hiccup said, baffled.

* * *

Johann wasn't there when they arrived at his first Combat Arts lesson. They all sat down around the arena, taking out their books, quills and parchment, and were talking when he finally appeared.

Surprisingly, he was not alone; Asketill was with him, helping him carry a wardrobe into the arena. Hiccup noticed that Asketill’s eyes were glittering, and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth.

When they finally placed the wardrobe down in the center of the arena, Johann looked at Asketill with a warming smile.

"Thank you for the help, Asketill," he said. "I never would’ve been able to get it here myself. Are you sure you don't want to stay and watch?"

"I'm sure, Johann," Asketill said with a sneer, walking past him. Just as he reached the entrance, he paused and said, "Oh, possibly no one's warned you, Johann, but this class contains Fishlegs Ingerman. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult—not unless Wicket is hissing instructions in his ear."

Fishlegs went scarlet, as did Ragnar. Hiccup and Astrid glared at Asketill; it was bad enough that he bullied Fishlegs in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Johann had merely raised an eyebrow.

"Eh? I was hoping that Fishlegs would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I have full confidence that he will perform it most admirably."

Fishlegs’ face went, if possible, even redder. Asketill’s lip curled, but he left without saying another word.

"Now, then," Johann said, turning to the class, who were still opened mouthed, "You might as well pack up your books. As you can see, today will be a practical lesson. You will only need your crystal eyes and weapons."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Combat Arts class before, not counting the memorable class last year when their old teacher let loose a Deadly Nadder that Astrid had managed to train, but not before almost demolishing the arena.

The wardrobe gave a sudden, violent wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," Johann said calmly, as a few people jumped away from it in alarm. "It’s merely a boggart."

Most people seemed to feel that this _was_ something to worry about. Fishlegs gave Johann a look of pure terror, and Ragnar eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Johann went on. "I've seen them hide in the most unusual places during my travels, like in a grandfather clock. But they prefer wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks, and so on. _This_ one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third-years some practice. He readily agreed.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is simple; what _is_ a Boggart?"

Hiccup looked to Ragnar, expecting his hand to shoot up first as always—but to the surprise of everyone, Astrid’s hand was already in the air.

"Ah, Miss Hofferson, would you like to tell us?" Johann said.

"It's a shape-shifter," Astrid said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Johann said, and Astrid grinned. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," Johann said, choosing to ignore Fishlegs' small splutter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have any of you spotted it? Hiccup, can you guess?"

"Uh—because there are so many of us, it won't know what form it should take?" Hiccup said.

"Correct," Johann said. "It is always best to have company when you're dealing with creatures such as the Boggart. In fact, the more people, the better. He quickly becomes confused, disoriented. Which terror should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake—tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

"The technique that repels a Boggart is perfectly manageable, but it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is _laughter_. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. That’s where you come in, Fishlegs."

The wardrobe shook again, though not nearly as much as Fishlegs, who walked forward as though he was heading for the gallows.

"Right, Fishlegs," Johann said. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?

Fishlegs' lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Fishlegs, sorry," Johann said, not unkindly.

Fishlegs looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Asketill the Harsh."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Fishlegs grinned apologetically. Johann, however, looked thoughtful.

"Asketill the Harsh…I see…I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Uh—yes," Fishlegs said nervously. "But—but I don't want the Boggart to turn into _her_ , either..."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," Johann said, now smiling widely. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Fishlegs looked startled, but said, "Well, um…always the same helmet. An old rusty one with large ram horns. And a long dress…green, normally…and sometimes a metal breastplate."

"And does she carry a bag?" Johann prompted.

"Made out of dried Gronckle skin," Fishlegs said.

"Right then," Johann said. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Fishlegs? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," Fishlegs said uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next.

"When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Fishlegs, and sees you, it will assume the form of Asketill at his most terrifying," Johann said. "And you will raise that hammer of yours and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Boggart Asketill will be forced into those very clothes you described."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled even more violently.

"If Fishlegs is successful, the Boggart is likely to turn his attention to each of us in turn," Johann said. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and then imagine how you might force it to look comical…"

The room went quiet. Hiccup thought…What scared him most in the world?

His first thought was Drago Bludvist—a Drago returned to full strength. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a Boggart-Drago, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind…

A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak…a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth…then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning…

"Is everyone ready?" Johann asked.

Hiccup felt a lurch of fear. He wasn't ready. How could you make a Dementor any less frightening? But he didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

"Fishlegs, we're going to back away," Johann said. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward…everyone back, now, so Fishlegs can get a clear shot—"

They all retreated, backing against the walls, leaving Fishlegs alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he pulled out his stone hammer and took a battle stance.

(Not one that would actually last in a battle, but hey, he was trying)

"On the count of three, Fishlegs," Johann said, pointing his dagger at the handle of the wardrobe. "One—two—three— _now_!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Johann's dagger and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Asketill swept out, his eyes flashing dangerously at Fishlegs.

Fishlegs backed away, his hammer going slack in his hand. Asketill was bearing down upon him, pulling out his axe.

Fishlegs closed his eyes. There was a noise like a whip crack. Boggart Asketill stumbled; he was wearing a long dress with a breastplate fitted on it, and an old rusted helmet with large ram horns, and he was swinging a satchel made of dried out dragon-skin.

There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Johann shouted, "Agatha! Forward!"

Agatha walked forward, her face set. Boggart Asketill rounded on her. There was another, louder crack, and where he stood was an ugly orc; his ugly face was turned to Agatha and he began to walk towards her, looking very frightening, his arms rising slowly—

Agatha pulled out her spear and pointed at the Orc.

The orc's feet were suddenly warped by string and when he moved his leg, the orc fell face first onto the floor.

_Crack_ ! The orc turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then— _Crack_ !—becoming a wild boar, which snorted before— _Crack_!—becoming a single tusk.

"It's confused!" Johann shouted. "We're getting there! Wartihog!"

Wartihog hurried forward.

_Crack_! The tusk became a severed hand, which flipped over, and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

Wartihog smiled and point his spear at it.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ragnar, you next!"

Ragnar leapt forward.

_Crack_!

Quite a few people screamed. A giant six foot tall wasp was hovering above them, flicking its stinger menacingly. For a moment, Hiccup thought Ragnar had frozen with fear. Then—

With a yell, Ragnar pointed his short sword at it, and the wasp's wings vanished and it fell, hitting the ground with a bang, its legs now wheels. It rolled uncontrollably on the floor and found itself heading straight towards Hiccup and Astrid. They both pulled their weapons out, but—

"Here!" Johann shouted suddenly, hurrying forward.

_Crack_!

The skating wasp had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Johann, who raised his dagger almost lazily.

_Crack_!

"Forward, Fishlegs, and finish him off!" Johann said, as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. _Crack_! Asketill was back. This time Fishlegs charged, hammer in hand, looking determined.

Suddenly Asketill was back in his dress for about a split second before Fishlegs let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" Johann cried, as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Fishlegs. Well done, everyone. Let me see…five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart—ten for Fishlegs because he did it twice—and five each to Astrid and Hiccup."

"But I didn't do anything," Hiccup protested.

"You and Astrid answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Hiccup; that feels like something to me," Johann said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me…to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class went to collect their bags. Hiccup, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Johann had deliberately stopped him tackling the Boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Hiccup collapse on the train, and thought he wasn't up to much? Had he thought Hiccup would pass out again? Had being next to him prevented Astrid from having a shot as well?

But no one else seemed to have noticed anything.

"Did you see me take that the hand?!" Wartihog said, waving his spear around like a madman.

"And Asketill in that dress!"

"And my orc!"

"I wonder why Johann’s frightened of orbs of light." Fishlegs mused.

"Why are you scared of wasps?" Hiccup asked Ragnar.

"Not just wasp—bees and hornets, too," Ragnar said, shivering slightly. "When I was about eight years old, my mum took me to visit this old Muggle castle. I wandered off on my own, and ended up in the garden. I tried picking a flower for my mum, and failed to notice the wasp on it. In retaliation, it stung me on the lip. You can imagine how miserable I must have looked when my mum found me."

"Ah."

"That was the best Combat Arts lesson we've ever had," Astrid said as they picked up their bags. "I just wish I could have had a turn with the Boggart—"

"What would it have been for you," Ragnar said, snickering as they left the arena. "You in a dress?"

There was a moment of silence, then a yelp of pain; Astrid had punched Ragnar in the face.

* * *

**Ragnar, sweetie, I love you...but you kind of deserved that.**

**(And he's wrong BTW. Astrid's biggest fear is...well, very dark. Feel free to speculate in the comments)**

**Highlight of chapter: Hmm...this is a tough one...There are a lot of details I love, but that's because _I_ know what's really going on/what will be going on that makes those details so great. Helheim, there was one detail I'd forgotten about which is so freaking great you guys don't even know. So, uh, I will now take this opportunity to say something that has been bugging me all week.**

**WHY THE HELHEIM WAS SNAPE NOT FIRED AFTER IT WAS DISCOVERED HE WAS NEVILLE'S GREATEST FEAR?!**

**...Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest.**

**See you guys next week!**


	8. Flight of the Fat Valkyrie

***rubs the sleep out of my eyes***

**Kindly pardon the late update; I've been feeling out of it all day.**

* * *

_Chapter Eight: Flight of the Fat_ _Valkyrie_

* * *

In no time at all, Combat Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Snotlout and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Johann.

"Look at the state of his clothes," Snotlout would say in a loud whisper as Johann passed. "He dresses worse than our old house-elf."

But no one else cared that Johann's clothes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons had been just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, they studied Goblins, nasty dwarf-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed, waiting to kill and steal from those who had gotten lost. From Goblins they moved on to Kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Johann had also managed to bond every third year to a dragon. Fishlegs made a bond with a brown-scaled Gronckle, who he called Meatlug. The twins had bonded (or, more accurately, they had fought over) with a green scaled Hideous Zippleback, Ruffnut got the left head, the one that shot out gas, and she called him Barf; Tuffnut, the head that ignited the gas, which he dubbed Belch. And Wartihog had bonded with a Thunderdrum who he called Screecher.

Hiccup only wished he was as happy with some of his other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Asketill was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the Boggart assuming Asketill’s shape, and the way that Fishlegs had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes had travelled through Berk like wildfire, which Astrid sheepishly claimed partial credit for. Asketill didn't seem to find it very funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at very mention of Johann's name, and he was bullying Fishlegs worse than ever.

Hiccup was also growing to dread the hours he spent with Gothi the Elder on the mountain peak, deciphering lop-sided sharps and symbols, trying to ignore the way Gothi's enormous eyes misted over every time she looked at him. Though he did his best to be nice to her, he simply couldn't like Gothi, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Agatha Berdis and Maria Stonefoot had taken to haunting the mountain peak at lunchtimes, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Hiccup, as though he was already on his deathbed.

On the bright side, Snotlout's plan to make Gobber lose his job didn’t seem to have worked. Gobber spent the first few lessons telling them how to improve their saddles, and after a month he informed them that the examination had started now. He wanted them to complete a project of their choice before the end of the summer term.

"Now we just have to come up with an idea," Astrid said. "That’ll be…fun."

And at the start of October, Hiccup had something else to occupy him, something so enjoyable it made up for his unsatisfactory classes. The Dragon Racing season was approaching, and Eret Eretson, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting one Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

In truth the thing he liked most about Dragon Racing was being with Toothless, who seemed to be quite happy to see him, because Hiccup was still covered in places with dragon saliva. Toothless was a Night Fury, one of the rarest and most intelligent dragons in the whole world, and riding on his back was the most wonderful experience of his life.

There were seven people on a Dragon Racing team: three Chasers whose job it was to score goals by putting a Quaffle (a white, football-sized ball that floated around the stadium and multiplied) into a basket at each end of the stadium; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls which zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the basket; and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Dark Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Eret was a burly seventeen-year old, now in his seventh and final year at Berk. There was quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members and their dragons in the chilly changing rooms on the edge of pontoon of the Dragon Racing stadium.

"This is our last chance— _my_ last chance—to win the Dragon Racing cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "Skullcrusher and I will be leaving at the end of this year. We'll never get another shot at it.

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world—injuries—then the tournament getting called off last year…" Eret swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know that we've got the _best—ruddy—team—in—the—academy_ ," he said punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye.

"We've got seven _top-notch_ dragons."

The Gryffindor Racing dragon stood up proudly.

"We've got three _superb_ Chasers."

Eret pointed at Elfchild Spinson, Ase Jerkson and Kari Bellson.

"We've got two _unbeatable_ Beaters."

"Stop it, Eret, you're embarrassing us," Double and Trouble Hofferson said together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has _never_ _failed_ _to win us a match_!" Eret rumbled, glaring at Hiccup with a furious kind of pride. "Oh, and me," he added, as an afterthought.

"We think you're good, too, Eret," Trouble said.

"Best Keeper we’ve ever had," Double added.

"The point is," Eret went on, resuming his pacing, "the Dragon Racing cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Hiccup joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance I'll get to finally see our names on the thing…"

Eret spoke so dejectedly that even Double and Trouble looked sympathetic.

"Eret, this year's our year," Double said.

"We'll do it, Eret!" Ashe said.

"Definitely," Hiccup said.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind or rain could tarnish Hiccup’s wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Dragon Racing cup.

Hiccup returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happening?" he asked Astrid and Ragnar, who were sitting in two if the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy. Karita, who had settled in Astrid’s lap while she worked, yipped happily at the sight of him.

"First Berksmeade weekend," Astrid said, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old notice board. "End of October, Halloween."

"Excellent," Double said, having followed Hiccup through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Hiccup threw himself into a chair beside Astrid and patted Karita’s head, his high spirits ebbing away. Ragnar seemed to read his mind.

"Hiccup, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," he said. "They're bound to catch Alvin soon; he's been sighted once already."

"Alvin is mad, not stupid; he couldn't be fool enough to try anything in Berksmeade," Astrid said. "Ask Phlegma if you can go this time, Hiccup, the next one might not be for ages—"

" _Astrid_ !" Ragnar exclaimed. "Hiccup's supposed to stay _in Berk_ —"

"He can't be the only third-year left behind," Astrid said stubbornly. "Ask Phlegma, go on, Hiccup—"

Ragnar opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment Amber landed lightly on his lap. A large, dead fish was in her mouth.

"Does she have to eat that in front of us?" Astrid said, scowling.

"Clever Amber, did you catch that all by yourself?" Ragnar said.

Amber began to chew the fish, her yellow eyes fixed insolently on Astrid.

"Just keep her over there, that's all," Astrid said irritably, turning back to her star chart. "I've got Scabbard asleep in my satchel."

Hiccup yawned. He really wanted to go to bed, but he still had his own star chart to complete. He pulled his bag towards him, took out parchment, ink and quill, and started work.

"You can copy mine, if you like," Astrid said, labelling her last star with a flourish and shoving the chart towards Hiccup.

Hiccup smiled. "Thank you, Milady."

Ragnar, who disapproved of copying, glared at them, but didn't say anything. Amber was still staring unblinkingly at Astrid, flicking the end of her tail. Then without warning, she pounced.

"HEY!" Astrid roared, seizing her satchel as Amber sank her claws deeply into it, and began tearing furiously. "GET OFF, YOU USELESS REPTILE!"

_"I’M TRYING TO HELP!"_

Astrid tried to pull the satchel away from Amber, but Amber clung on, roaring and slashing.

"Astrid don't you dare hurt her!" Ragnar yelled. The whole common room was watching; Astrid whirling the satchel around, Amber still clinging to it, and Scabbard went flying out of the top—

"CATCH THAT TERROR!" Astrid yelled, as Amber freed herself from the remnants of the satchel, sprang over the table and chased after the terrified Scabbard.

Trouble made a lunge for Amber, but missed; Scabbard streaked through twenty pair of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Amber skidded to a halt, crouched low on her legs and started making furious swipes beneath the chest of drawers with her front claw. Karita dashed to her side and nudged her backwards, growling.

_"Don’t you dare try to stop me! This needs to be done!"_

Karita stood on her hind legs and crashed into the Terrible Terror, knocking them both to the ground. They rolled around the floor, clawing and scratching at each other, but Karita proved stronger; she pinned Amber to the floor and barked at Astrid, as though trying to say _"It's alright! I’ve got her!"_

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar hurried over; Ragnar grabbed Amber around the middle and heaved her away, while Hiccup held Karita; Astrid threw herself onto her stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbard out by the tail.

"Look at him!" she said furiously to Ragnar, dangling Scabbard in front of him. "He's skin and bone! You keep that Terror away from him!"

"Amber doesn't understand it's wrong!" Ragnar said, his voice shaking. "You know Terrible Terrors go after small animals like rats, Astrid!"

"I don't see Sharpshot, Blood-Spatter, Everwild _or_ Harmed chase after him!" Astrid retorted, trying her best to calm down the wiggling Scabbard. "Helheim, _Karita_ doesn’t do that, and she’s a hunting dog! I'm telling you, there’s something funny about that Terror. It heard me say that Scabbard was in my satchel!"

"Oh, now you're being ridiculous," Ragnar said impatiently. "Amber could _smell_ him, Astrid, how else do you think—"

"That Terror's got it in for Scabbard!" Astrid said, before turning to glare at the people around her, who had started to giggle. When the room was quiet again, she turned back to Ragnar. "Scabbard was here first, in case you forgot, _and_ he's ill."

She took a deep breath, then patted Karita on the head. "Good girl." Her eyes lifted to meet Hiccup’s. "I’m going to bed."

She spun on her heel and marched away, through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

_"I don’t regret trying,"_ Amber hissed grumpily.

* * *

Astrid was still in a bad mood with Ragnar next day. She barely talked to him all through Herbology, even though she, Hiccup and Ragnar were working together on the same puffapod.

"How's Scabbard?" Ragnar asked almost timidly, as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.

"He's hiding underneath my bed, shaking," Astrid said angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the barn house floor.

"Careful, Miss Hofferson, careful!" Eydis cried as the beans burst into bloom before their eyes.

They had Transfiguration next, but still Astrid and Ragnar didn't talk to each other. They sat themselves either side of Hiccup and listened to Phlegma intently.

Hiccup still hadn't decided what he was going to say to Phlegma when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Berksmeade first.

"One moment, please!" she called, as the class made to leave. "As you're all in my house, you should hand Berksmeade permission forms to me before Hallowe'en. No forms mean no visiting the village, so don’t forget about it."

Fishlegs put up his hand.

"Please, ma'am, I—I think I've lost—"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Ingerman," Phlegma said. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave."

"Ask her now," Astrid hissed at Hiccup.

"Oh, but—" Ragnar began. But Astrid glared at him, and he stopped.

Hiccup waited for the rest of the class to disappear, and then headed nervously for Phlegma's desk.

"Yes, Hiccup?"

Hiccup took a deep breath.

"Ma'am, my aunt and uncle—uh—forgot to sign my form," he said.

Phlegma looked at him, but didn't say anything.

"So—uh—do you think it would be all right—I mean, will it be okay if—if I go to Berksmeade?"

Phlegma looked down, sighed and said, "I'm afraid not, Hiccup. You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule."

"But—ma'am, my aunt and uncle—you know, they're Muggles, they don't really understand about—about Berk form and stuff," Hiccup said, while Astrid egged him on with vigorous nods. "If you said I could go—"

"But I don't say so," said Phlegma, standing up. "The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission." She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? "I'm sorry, Hiccup; your mother was my best friend, but I can't show favoritism. You had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson."

* * *

There was nothing to be done. Astrid called Phlegma a lot of the names that Hiccup had taught her in their first year, names that greatly annoyed Ragnar; Ragnar assumed an "all-for-the-best" expression that made Astrid even angrier, and Hiccup had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Berksmeade.

"There's always the feast," Astrid said, in an effort to cheer Hiccup up. "You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening."

"Yeah," Hiccup said, gloomily, "great."

The Halloween feast was always good, but it would taste a lot better if he was coming to it after a day in Berksmeade with everyone else. Nothing anyone said made him feel any better about being left behind. Fishlegs, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Björn’s signature on the form, but as Hiccup reminded him that he already told Phlegma he hadn't had it signed, that was no good. Astrid half-heartedly suggested the Invisibility Cape, but Ragnar stamped on that one, reminding Astrid what Alvis had told them about the Dementors being able to see though them. Askeladden had what were quite possibly the least helpful words of comfort.

"They make a fuss about Berksmeade, but I assure you, Hiccup, it's not all it's cracked up to be," he said seriously. "All right, the sweetshop's rather good, but Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really, Hiccup, apart from that, you're not missing anything."

"You know, this conversion really isn't helping at all," Hiccup said, feeling even more miserable than before.

* * *

_"Oh, of all the_ **_ridiculous_ ** _ideas…"_

_The girl was pacing back and forth. She seemed slightly older than she had been in his last dream, and not as pale, though that may have been due to the firelight gleaming off of her skin. Her expression was calm, as solemn as before, but Hiccup could feel the anger radiating off of her, and it was infectious; he found himself getting angry himself, simply because_ **_she_ ** _was angry._

_"Are they out of their minds?! This can’t possibly be acceptable! I read those rules a dozen times, and they very clearly said you can’t—"_

_"Calm down," he heard himself say._

_"I will_ **_not_ ** _calm down! I’m bloody pissed off!"_

_"I know you are. Trust me, I do. But you’re going to wake Astrid."_

_"I’ll have to anyway." She ran a hand over her face. "Can’t have her sleeping on the couch if you’re staying…Unless you intend on sleeping in her bed for the night?"_

_Hiccup blushed. "Um, no. Sleep in Astrid’s bed? Ragnar would never let me hear the end of it."_

_The laughter he received was begrudging, but it was laughter, and it was a nice thing to hear._

* * *

Hiccup awoke from his dream with a start. He almost considered going back to sleep, but persistent nudges from Karita’s cold, wet nose convinced him otherwise. He went down to breakfast with the rest, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing his best to act normally.

"We'll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes," Ragnar said, looking desperately sorry for him.

"Yeah, we'll get you the good stuff," Astrid said. She and Ragnar had finally forgotten their squabble about Amber in the face of Hiccup's disappointment.

"Don't worry about me," Hiccup said, in what he hoped was an offhanded tone. "I'll see you at the feast. Have a good time."

Karita at his heels, Hiccup accompanied them to the village plaza, where Mildew the Unpleasant, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn't be going.

"Staying here, Useless?" Snotlout shouted from his place in line with Hjartán and Falskur. "Scared of passing the Dementors?"

Hiccup ignored him and made his way up backing into the mountain, through the Great Hall, up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Karita barked to get the portrait’s attention.

"Password?" the Fat Valkyrie said, jerking out of a doze.

"Daring Viking," Hiccup said listlessly.

The portrait swung open and he climbed through the hole into the common room. Karita jumped up and followed him in.

The common room was full of chattering first—and second—years, and a few older students who had obviously visited Berksmeade so often the novelty had worn off.

"Hiccup! Hiccup! Hi, Hiccup!"

It was Gustav Larson, a second-year who was deeply in awe of Hiccup and never missed an opportunity to speak to him.

"Aren't you going to Berksmeade, Hiccup? Why not? Hey"— Gustav eagerly around at his friends, which just so happened to include Egill Hofferson— "you can come and sit with us, if you like, Hiccup!"

"Uh— no, thanks, Gustav," Hiccup said. He wasn't in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at the scar on his forehead. "I—I've got to go to the library, got to get some work done."

After that, he had no choice but to pick up Karita, turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again.

"What was the point of waking me up?" the Fat Valkyrie called grumpily after him as he walked away.

Hiccup wandered dispiritedly towards the library, but halfway there he changed his mind; he didn't feel like working. He turned around and came face to face with Mildew, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Berksmeade visitors.

"What are you doing?" Mildew snarled suspiciously.

"Nothing," Hiccup said truthfully.

"Doing nothing, eh?!" Mildew spat, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "That's a likely story! Sneaking around on your own— why aren't you in Berksmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends? And why have you got a dog in your arms?"

Hiccup just shrugged, scratching behind Karita’s ear.

"Well then get back to your common room where you belong, runt!" Mildew snapped, and he walked passed him, still glaring.

"Sometimes I think he only took the job to punish students," a kindhearted voice behind Hiccup said.

Hiccup turned around and saw Johann smiling at him.

"Yeah, I'm betting it's his hobby," Hiccup said.

They both laughed and then Johann studied Hiccup closely. "Why don't you come to my house?" he said at last. "It beats wondering the fort, and I can show you my delivered Grindylow for our next lesson."

"A…a what?" Hiccup asked.

He followed Johann into the village outside and entered his house. Johann had decorated the place with exotic stuff from every corner of the world, strange weapons, jewelry and knickknacks. In the corner of the room stood a very large tank of water, Hiccup saw a sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

"Water demon," Johann said, surveying the Grindlow thoughtfully. "He feeds on anger and hatred, but we shouldn't have much problem with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to keep your anger and hatred at bay while trying to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? They’re strong, but surprisingly brittle."

The Grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Johann said, looking around for his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."

"All right," Hiccup said awkwardly. He placed Karita on the floor, and she immediately bounded over to the tank. She was a curious dog (curious as her owner, according to Astrid).

Johann placed his hand on the banged-up kettle and at once steam issued suddenly from the spout.

"Sit down," Johann said, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "Gothi has informed me of the prediction she mentioned to you, you know."

Hiccup looked at him. Johann's eyes were twinkling.

"She’s right. Soothsaying isn't always accurate," Johann said. "And she’s the world's most powerful Völva. Granted, they’re rare to begin with, since most don’t even survive childhood, but Gothi’s the best of the best. In fact, it is the reason why Drago Bludvist wanted her during the war."

Hiccup stared. Johann had said Drago's name. The only person Hiccup had ever heard say the name aloud without fear (apart from himself, of course) was Alvis the Noble.

"You see, Drago wanted her so he could get knowledge about the future," Johann explained. "I’m guessing he never thought to study soothsaying himself. Luckily, we managed to get to her first and took her here so Alvis could watch over her. To this day, Alvis is worried that someone might kidnap her and deliver her to Drago. She’s not as strong as she used to be; he doubts she could stop them."

He passed Hiccup a chipped mug and looked at his face. "You're not worried about what she foresaw, are you?"

"No," Hiccup said.

He thought for a moment of telling Johann about the dog he'd seen in Magnolia Crescent, or the girl he had been dreaming about, but decided not to. He didn't want Johann to think he was a coward, especially since Johann already seemed to think he couldn't cope with a Boggart.

Something of Hiccup's though seemed to have shown on his face, because Johann said, "Anything worrying you, Hiccup?"

"No," Hiccup lied. He drank a bit of coffee and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at him. "Yes," he said suddenly, putting his coffee down on Johann's desk. "You know that day we fought the Boggart?"

"Yes, I recall," Johann said slowly.

"Why didn't you let me and Astrid fight it?" Hiccup said abruptly.

Johann raised his eyebrows.

"I would have thought that was obvious, Hiccup," he said, sounding vaguely surprised.

Hiccup, who had expected Johann to deny that he'd done any such thing, was taken aback.

"Why?" he said again.

"Well," Johann said, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Drago Bludvist." He looked at Hiccup, who was speechless, and frowned. "Clearly, I was wrong. But I didn't think it a good idea for Drago Bludvist to materialize in the arena. I imagined that people would panic."

"I did think of Drago Bludvist at first," Hiccup said honestly. "But then I—I remembered those Dementors."

"I see," Johann said thoughtfully. "I've travelled across the world, I've seen people you wouldn't believe, but you've impressed me more than any of them." He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Hiccup's face. "For the thing that fears you most is fear itself. That is very wise, Hiccup."

Hiccup didn't know what to say to that, so he forced himself to drink some more coffee.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?" Johann asked shrewdly.

"Well…yeah," Hiccup said. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. "Sir, how is it that you knew my name? Was it because of my—"

"No, it wasn’t because of your scar," Johann said simply, "I recognized you because of your eyes. You look so much like your mother…except for your—"

"My eyes," Hiccup finished. He’d heard that phrase dozens of times. "I’ve got my dad’s eyes."

Johann looked as though he was about to say more, but there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Johann called.

The door opened, and in came Asketill. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Hiccup, his black eyes narrowing.

"Ah, Asketill," Johann said, smiling. "Thank you very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Asketill set the smoking goblet down, his eyes wandering between Hiccup and Johann.

"I was just showing Hiccup my Grindylow," Johann said pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

"Fascinating," Asketill said, without looking at the tank. "You should drink that directly, Johann."

"Yes, yes, I will," Johann said.

"I made an entire cauldronful," Asketill continued. "In case you need more."

"Yes, I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks again, Asketill."

"Not at all," Asketill said, but there was a look in his eye Hiccup didn't like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.

Hiccup looked curiously at the goblet. Johann smiled.

"Asketill has very kindly concocted a potion for me," he explained. "I have been much of a potion-brewer, and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. "Bleh, such a pity that sugar makes it useless," he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

"Why—?" Hiccup began. Johann looked at him and answered the unfinished question.

"During my travels I caught an unpleasant disease," he said. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Asketill; there aren't many Vikings who are up to making it."

Johann took another sip, and Hiccup had a mad urge to knock the goblet out of his hands.

"Asketill's very interested in the Combat Arts," he blurted out.

"Really?" Johann said, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion.

"Some people reckon—" Hiccup hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, "some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Combat Arts job."

Johann drained the goblet and pulled a face.

"Disgusting," he said. "Well, Hiccup, I'd better get back to work. I'll see at the feast later."

"Right," Hiccup said, putting his empty coffee mug down.

The empty goblet was still smoking.

* * *

"There you go," Astrid said. "We got much as we could carry."

A shower of brilliantly colored sweets fell into Hiccup's lap. It was dusk, and Astrid and Ragnar had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives.

"Thanks," Hiccup said, picking up packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. "What's Berksmeade like? Where did you go?"

By the sound if it—everywhere. Bard and Bangs, the Viking equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, into the Green Dragon for foaming mugs of hot Butterbeer and many places besides.

"You should've seen the post office, Hiccup! About two hundred Terrible Terrors, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes have got a new kind of fudge, they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look—"

"We _think_ we saw an ogre, I'm telling you, and they get all sorts at the Green Dragon—"

"Wish we could have brought you some Butterbeer, really warms you up—"

"What did you do?" Ragnar asked "Did some work, I take it?"

"No," Hiccup said. "Johann made me a mug of coffee in his house. And then Asketill came in…"

He told them all about the goblet. Astrid's mouth fell open.

"Johann _drank_ it?" she gasped. "Is he _insane_?"

Ragnar checked his watch.

"We'd better go down, you know, the feast will be starting in a few minutes…" They hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Asketill.

"But if he—you know—" Ragnar dropped his voice, glancing nervously around, "if he _was_ trying to—to poison Johann—he wouldn't have done it in front of Hiccup."

"Yeah, maybe," Hiccup said, as they reached the Entrance Hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of fireball-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

The food was delicious; even Astrid and Ragnar, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything (granted, Astrid had a huge appetite, so that wasn’t really a surprise). Hiccup kept glancing at the staff table. Johann looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Alvar the Charmer, the Core Magic Master. Hiccup moved his eyes along the table, to the place where Asketill sat. Was he imagining it, or were Asketill’s eyes flickering towards Johann more often than was natural?

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Berk ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a spot of formation gliding: Nearly Headless Njorthr, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a re-enactment of his own botched beheading.

It had been such good evening that Hiccup's good mood couldn't even be spoiled by Snotlout, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the Hall, "The Dementors send you their love, Useless!"

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to the Gryffindor Common Room, but when they reached the corridor which ended with the portrait of the Fat Valkyrie, they found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ragnar said curiously.

Hiccup peered over the heads in front of him. The portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through, please," Askeladden’s voice called, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the hold-up here? You can't all have forgotten the password—excuse me, I'm Head Boy—"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Askeladden say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody go and fetch Alvis. Quick."

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tip-toe.

"What's going on?" Egill asked, having just arrived.

Next moment, Alvis was there, sweeping towards the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar moved closer to see what the trouble was.

"Odin's beard," Ragnar gasped, as Astrid grabbed Hiccup's arm.

The Fat Valkyrie had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that the wood was cracked and splinters littered the floor; great chunks of wood had been torn away completely.

Alvis took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber to see Phlegma, Johann and Asketill hurrying towards him.

"We need to find her," Alvis said. "Phlegma, please get Mildew at once and tell him to search every painting in the mountain for the Fat Valkyrie."

"You'll be lucky!" a cackling voice said.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" Alvis asked calmly, and Peeves' grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Alvis the Noble. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. She doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added, unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" Alvis said quietly.

"Oh, yes, Noblehead," Peeves said, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over, and grinned at Alvis from between his legs. "A very nasty temper he's got, that Alvin the Treacherous."

* * *

**I will not argue with him on that. He's not wrong.**

**Highlight of chapter: The dream.**

***collapses* G'night, everybody.**

 


	9. The Signpost of Valhalla

**(Yes I know the update for Song Of The Fallen never happened. Illness prevented it. Chapter two will be up this Friday)**

* * *

_Chapter Nine: The Signpost of Valhalla_

* * *

Alvis sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined ten minutes later by students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, all of whom looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the fort," Alvis told them as Phlegma and Alvar closed all doors into the Hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the Hall, and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added to Askeladden, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Alvis paused, about to leave the Hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing…"

He casually waved his axe prosthetic, and the long tables flew to the edges of the Hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy brown sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," Alvis said, closing the door behind him.

The Hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.

"Everyone get into their sleeping bags!" Askeladden shouted. "Come on now, no more talking! Lights will go out in ten minutes!"

"Come on, guys," Astrid said to Hiccup and Ragnar; they seized three sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner. Karita trotted over and sat down beside Hiccup’s.

"Do you think Alvin's still in the fort?" Ragnar whispered anxiously.

"Alvis obviously thinks he might be," Astrid said.

"It's very lucky that he picked tonight, you know," Ragnar said, as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk. "The one night nobody was in the common room…"

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," Astrid said. "He probably didn't realize that it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here."

"Or maybe he wanted to sneak into our dorm to get me while we slept," Hiccup said.

Ragnar shrugged, looking deep in thought.

All around them, people were asking each other the same question: " _How did he get in_?"

"Maybe he knows how to use Teleportation Magic," a Ravenclaw a few feet away was saying. "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," a Hufflepuff fifth-year said.

"He could've flown in," Tuffnut suggested.

"Dear gods, am I the _only_ person who's ever bothered to read _A History of Dragons_?" Ragnar said crossly to Hiccup and Astrid.

"Probably," Astrid said. "Why?"

"Because the fort and the mountain are protected by a lot more than just _walls_ ," Ragnar said, rolling his eyes. "There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people from entering by stealth. You can't use Teleportation Magic in here. And Alvis mentioned that disguises can't fool Dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the island. They'd have seen him fly in, too. And Mildew knows all of the secret passages; no doubt they'll have them covered…"

"The lights are going out now!" Askeladden shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags! And no more talking!"

The torches all went out at once. The only light left came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking gravely to the Prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the Hall, Hiccup felt as though he was sleeping outdoors in a light wind.

Once every hour or so, a teacher would reappear in the Hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Alvis came in. Hiccup watched him looking around for Askeladden, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking. Askeladden was only a short way away from Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar, who quickly pretended to be asleep as Alvis’s footsteps drew nearer.

"Any sign of him, sir?" Askeladden asked in a hushed tone.

"No. All is well here?"

"Everything is under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Valkyrie, sir?"

"Currently hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently, she refused to let Alvin in, even though he had the password—how, I have no idea—, so he attacked her. She's still very distraught, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mildew restore her."

Hiccup heard the door of the Hall creak open again, and more footsteps.

"Headmaster?" It was Asketill. Hiccup kept quite still, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched twice. He's not there. And Mildew has done the dungeons; nothing there, either."

"What about the Mountain Peak? The Arena? The Stables?"

"All searched…"

"Very well, Asketill. Frankly, I didn't expect Alvin to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Alvis?" Asketill asked.

Hiccup raised his head very slightly off his arms to free his other ear.

"I have many, Asketill; each of them as unlikely as the next. He may be a criminal charged with murder and unspeakable betrayal, but I must admit that I’m impressed…"

Someone near Hiccup let out a soft hiss of anger, as though they begged to differ. A decidedly female someone. Perhaps it was the Head Girl…?

Hiccup opened his eyes a fraction and squinted up to where the three stood; Alvis’s back was to him, but he could see Askeladden’s face, rapt with attention, and Asketill’s profile, which looked angry. The Head Girl was nowhere to be found.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before—ah—the start of term?" Asketill said, barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Askeladden out of the conversation.

The hiss returned, louder and angrier than before, but only Hiccup seemed to notice it.

"I do, Asketill," Alvis said, quite calmly, but there was something like warning in his voice.

"It seems—almost impossible—that Alvin could have entered Berk would without inside help. I did express my concerns when you decided to appoint—"

"I do not believe a single person on the island would have helped Alvin enter it. And may I remind you, Asketill, that holding grudges is very unwise," Alvis said, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that Asketill didn't reply. "I must go down to the Dementors," Alvis said. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" Askeladden asked.

"Oh, they very much wanted to," Alvis said coldly. "But I'm afraid no Dementor will cross the over lake while I am Headmaster."

Askeladden looked slightly abashed. Alvis left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Asketill stood for a moment, watching the Headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face, then he, too, left.

Hiccup glanced sideways at Astrid and Ragnar. Both of them had their eyes open, too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

"What was that about?" Astrid mouthed.

"I have no idea," Hiccup mouthed back.

* * *

The academy talked of nothing but Alvin the Treacherous for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the fort became wilder and wilder; Eggingarde Damar, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Alvin could turn into a flowering shrub.

The Fat Valkyrie's battered portrait had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Cadogan the Gallant and his purple-scaled Gronckle. Nobody was exactly thrilled about this. Cadogan spent half of his time challenging people to duels and charming young Valkyries, which annoyed Astrid to no end (Karita as well; she barked and growled whenever she saw him), and the other half thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

"He's a lunatic," Astrid said angrily to Askeladden. "Can't we get _anyone_ else?"

"None of the other portraits wanted the job," Askeladden said. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Valkyrie. Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer. Well, Valhallarama the Dependable was willing, but she’s too important to risk; Alvis put his foot down on that."

Cadogan, however, was the least of Hiccup's worries. He was now being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with him, and Askeladden (acting, Hiccup strongly suspected, on his mother's orders) was tailing him everywhere, like an extremely pompous guard dog. Even when he was in the stables with Toothless, he was being watched by Eret and Madam Flyheart. And t top it all off, Phlegma summoned Hiccup to her house, with such a somber expression on her face that for a moment Hiccup thought someone must have died.

"There's no point hiding it from you any longer, Hiccup," she said, in a very serious voice. "I know this will come as a shock to you, but Alvin the Treacherous—"

"I know he's after me," Hiccup said wearily. "I heard Astrid's dad telling her mum. Mr Hofferson works for the Dragon Ministry."

Phlegma seemed very taken aback. She stared at Hiccup for a moment or two, and then said, "I see! Well, in that case, Hiccup, you'll understand why I don't think it's a good idea for you to be practicing Dragon Racing in the evenings. Out on the lake with only your team members, it's very exposed, Hiccup—"

"We've got our first match on Saturday!" Hiccup said, outraged. "I've got to train, ma'am! Besides, I'll be riding on a Night Fury; Alvin wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack me while I’m on _the_ _unholy offspring of lightning and death itself_."

Phlegma considered him intently. Hiccup knew she was deeply interested in the Gryffindor team's prospects; it had been her, after all, who'd suggested him as Seeker in the first place. He waited, holding his breath.

"Hmm…" Phlegma stood up and stared out of the window at the Dragon Racing stadium, just visible through the pouring rain. "Well…Thor only knows I'd like to see us win the cup at long last…But all the same, Hiccup…I'd be happier if a teacher were present. I'll ask Madam Flyheart to oversee your training sessions."

* * *

The weather worsened steadily as the first Dragon Racing match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team were training harder than ever under the watchful eye of Madam Flyheart. Then, at their final training session before Saturday's match, Eret gave his team some unwelcome news.

"We're not playing Slytherin!" he told them, looking very angry. "Dagur's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Why?" the rest of the team chorused.

"Dagur's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still horribly injured," Eret said, grinding his teeth in fury. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances…"

There had indeed been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Eret spoke, they heard a distant rumble of thunder. It seemed Thor was angry about something. Maybe he was as angry at Loki as Hiccup was at Snotlout.

"There's _nothing wrong_ with Snotlout's arm!" Hiccup said furiously. "He's faking it!"

"I know that, but we can't prove it," Eret said bitterly. "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's _completely_ different. They've got a new captain and Seeker, Erik Digson—"

Ashe, Elfchild and Kari suddenly giggled.

"What?" Eret said, frowning at this light-hearted behavior.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, right?" Ashe said.

"Strong and silent," Kari added, and they started to giggle again.

"He's only silent because he's too much of a muttonhead to string two words together," Double said impatiently. "I don't know why you're so worried, Eret, Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, Hiccup caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Eret shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. "Digson's put a very strong side together! He's an _excellent_ Seeker! The Snitch will be harder to see than normal! Gods, I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We _must_ win!"

"Eret, calm down!" Double said, looking slightly alarmed. "You don’t need to worry, alright? We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. _Seriously_."

* * *

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point, and rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches were lit, and Hiccup needed to use his fire magic to create light. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Snotlout.

"Ah, if only my arm was feeling better!" he sighed, as the gale outside pounded against the windows.

Hiccup had no room in his head to worry about anything except the match tomorrow. Eret kept hurrying up to him between classes and giving him tips. The third time this happened, Eret talked for so long that Hiccup suddenly realized he was ten minutes late for Combat Arts, and set off at a run with Eret shouting after him, "Digson's got a very fast Monstrous Nightmare called Crimsonclaw, Hiccup, so don't fly up to him too close—"

Hiccup skidded to a halt outside the arena and dashed inside.

"Sorry I'm late, sir, I—"

But it wasn't Johann who looked over at him from the middle of the arena; it was Asketill.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Haddock, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But Hiccup, still panting heavily from the run, stayed right where he was.

"Where's Johann?" he said.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Asketill said with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

"What's wrong with him?"

Asketill's black eyes glittered.

"Nothing life-threatening," he said, though he looked like he wished it was. "Another ten points from Gryffindor, and I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Hiccup walked slowly to the seat Astrid had saved for him and sat down. Asketill looked around at the class.

"As I was saying before Haddock came running in, Johann has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"

"We've done Boggarts, Goblins, Kappas and Grindylows," Ragnar said, crossing his arms, "and we're just about to start—"

"Be quiet, Wicket," Asketill said coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Johann's clear lack of organization."

"He's the coolest Combats Arts teacher we've ever had," Tuffnut said.

"Yeah, his lessons are the best," Ruffnut added, and there was murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Asketill looked more menacing than ever.

"You and your dim-witted brother are easily satisfied. Johann is hardly over-taxing you—I would expect first-years to be able to deal with Goblins and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss—"

Hiccup watched him flicker through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered.

"—werewolves," Asketill said.

"But, sir," Ragnar said, looking confused, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet; we're due to start Nokken—"

"Wicket," Asketill said, in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that _I_ was teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you to turn to page three hundred and ninety-four." He glanced around again. " _All_ of you! _Now!_ "

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Asketill said.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Ragnar, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

"Anyone want to answer?" Asketill said, ignoring Ragnar. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Johann hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"

"We told you," Agatha said suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"

" _Be quiet!_ " Asketill snarled. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Alvis how very behind you all are…"

"Sir!" Ragnar said, annoyed. "If you’d let me speak I could tell you that a werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways—"

"That is the _third_ time you have spoken out of turn, Wicket," Asketill said coolly. "Twenty more points from Gryffindor. For the sake of your house, I suggest you shut up. Or do you simply _like_ being an insufferable know-it-all?"

"Sir, I'm only trying to help move the class along!" Ragnar shouted, his face going red.

Every person in the class glared at Asketill with deep loathing, even though every one of them had called Ragnar a know-it-all at least once (Well, Hiccup hadn’t, but he’d thought of it a few times), and Astrid, who told Ragnar he was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly. "And can I ask you a question, _sir_! Do you want a question answered or not—he knows the godsdamn answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

The class knew instantly that she'd gone too far. Asketill advanced on Astrid slowly, and the room held its breath.

"Detention, Miss Hofferson," Asketill snarled, his face very close to Astrid's. It was a testament to how scary Asketill the Harsh could be that a flicker of fear crossed Astrid’s face. "And if I _ever_ hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed. Have I made myself clear?"

"Y-yes sir," Astrid squeaked. Under the desk, Hiccup reached out and grabbed a hold of her hand.

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Asketill prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Johann.

"Very poorly explained… that is _grossly_ incorrect; the Kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia…Johann gave this eight out of ten?! I wouldn't have given it _three_ …"

When the horn blew at last, Asketill held them back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject—No longer than that, Wicket—, and I want them by Monday morning. It is high time somebody took this class seriously. Miss Hofferson, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention for forgetting your place."

Hiccup and Ragnar left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Asketill.

"Asketill’s never been like this with any of our other Combat Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Hiccup said to Ragnar. "Why's he got it in for Johann? Do you think this is all because of the Boggart?"

"No, I think it goes a bit deeper than that," Ragnar said, rubbing his chin. "But I really hope Johann gets better soon…"

Astrid caught up with them five minutes later, in a towering rage.

"Do you know what that Son of a Troll is making me do?! I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the Infirmary, _and I can’t use any magic_!" She was breathing deeply, her fists clenched and her face bright red. "Why couldn't Alvin have hidden in Asketill’s office, eh? He could have finished him off for us!"

* * *

_Hiccup broke out of the water, coughing and spluttering._

_"Fourth attempt, failure," he announced to no one in particular._

_A blast of wind caught him, and he was lifted out of the water._

_"You lasted longer this time," a voice called. Hiccup turned his body to see the girl (younger and paler than ever) standing on the nearest pontoon, a shortsword in one hand and a towel in the other. "That has to count for something."_

_"I also went flying out of the saddle," Hiccup grumbled._

_"Well that’s more poor planning than a poor design," the girl said. She lifted the shortsword and tugged the wind blast towards the pontoon she was standing on._

_Hiccup sighed as his feet touched ground. "It's no use."_

_"Don’t say that." She began to dry him off._

_"It's the truth! I’ll never pull this off."_

_"Yes you will." The towel stopped moving, and she tilted her head back so that their eyes met. "Come on Hiccup, I know you can do this. You just have to keep trying. He wouldn’t give up on you, would he?"_

_"I…I guess you’re right."_

_"Of course I am." She grinned playfully. "Now back to the drawing board. That design isn’t going to perfect itself."_

_Hiccup laughed. "Ma’am yes ma’am!"_

* * *

Hiccup jolted awake. It was early in the morning; so early, in fact, that it was still dark. For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken him. Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and sat bolt upright—Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear.

"What in the name of Loki did you do that for?" Hiccup said furiously.

Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard and zoomed backwards out of the room, cackling. From down in the Common Room, Hiccup thought he heard a voice downstairs, but the words were drowned out by Peeve’s gleeful shrieking.

_"Moron,"_ Blood-Spatter growled, burrowing back under the covers.

Hiccup fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It was only half past four. Cursing Peeves under his breath, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but now that he was awake, it was very difficult to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the mountain, and the distant creaking of trees in Raven's Point. Thor was definitely in a nasty mood, and Hiccup felt sorry for whoever Thor was upset with.

In a few hours he would be out on the Dragon Racing stadium, battling through that gale. Finally he gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Amber making her way up to the girls’ dormitory. Hiccup drew out his sword and used his fire magic to create a hand to drag Amber towards him.

"You know, I reckon Astrid was right about you," Hiccup told Amber suspiciously. "There are plenty of mice in the stables, go and chase them. Go on," he added, pulling Amber to the open window that he guessed was how she got in in the first place, "leave Scabbard alone."

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. Hiccup knew better than to think the match would be cancelled; Dragon Races weren't called off for tiny trifles such as thunderstorms. Nevertheless, he was starting to feel very apprehensive. Eret had pointed out Eric Digson to him in the corridor; Digson was a fifth year and a lot bigger than Hiccup. Seekers were usually light and speedy (or as light and speedy as Vikings can get), but Digson's weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was a lot less likely to be blown off of his dragon.

Eret had also introduced him to Digson's dragon, Crimsonclaw. Crimsonclaw looked like the average Monstrous Nightmare, but up close it was clear that he was fit and powerful. Normally Seeker dragons were fast and nimble, like a Deadly Nadder, but Hiccup could tell that Digson had trained Crimsonclaw to push beyond his limits.

Hiccup whiled away the hours until dawn by doing his homework in front of the fire, getting up every now and then to stop Amber sneaking up the girls' staircase again. At long last Hiccup thought it must be time for breakfast, so he headed through the portrait hole alone.

(Karita was with Astrid, who’d grown rather fond of the pup since she had stopped Amber from eating Scabbard)

"Stand and fight, you runt of a Viking!" Cadogan yelled.

Hiccup ignored him and made his way to the Great Hall.

He revived a bit over a large plate of kippers, and by the time he had finished eating, the rest of the team had turned up.

"It's going to be a tough one," Eret said, not eating anything.

"Stop worrying, Eret," Elfchild said soothingly, "we don't mind a bit of rain."

But it was considerably more than "a bit of rain". Such was the popularity of Dragon Racing that the whole academy turned out to the stadium as usual, but they ran down the lawns towards the stables, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Even the dragons were finding hard to fly over to the stadium; they spent most of the time trying to fly straight and the rest trying to keep their riders on their backs. Just before he entered the changing rooms with Toothless, Hiccup saw Snotlout, Hjartán and Falskur laughing and pointing at him from under an enormous umbrella on their way to their seats. Hiccup had to pull Toothless back to prevent him from firing a plasma blast at them.

The team placed their face paint on themselves and on their dragons, for what little good it would do in this rain, and waited for Eret's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned them to follow him.

The wind was so strong that they were nearly thrown off their dragons as they flew out onto the stadium. They were forced to put their harnesses on to prevent that from happening. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder.

The Hufflepuffs were flying into the stadium as well from the opposite side of the pitch, wearing canary-yellow face paint. The captains flew side by side and shook each other's hand; Digson smiled at Eret, but Eret now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded. Hiccup thought he saw Madam Flyheart's mouth form the words, "Get set." Hiccup held onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and gave a few encouraging words to Toothless (earning a _"Just don’t fall off again"_ in reply). Madam Flyheart put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant—they were off.

Hiccup rose fast, but Toothless was swerving slightly with the wind. He held onto him as Toothless steadied them.

"Take it easy, bud," Hiccup said, patting Toothless' side.

Hiccup lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to keep Toothless steady. The sky was getting dark, as though night had decided to come back early, making it even harder to find the tiny Dark Snitch.

Hiccup was starting to get numb with the cold; he was wetter than he'd ever been in his life. Toothless was finding it hard to fly straight, but he put up a good fight as they flew around the stadium. Hiccup kept an eye out for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Digson, who was streaking in the opposite direction…

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lighting. This was getting more and more dangerous. Hiccup need to get the Snitch quickly—

He turned, intending to head back towards the middle of the stadium, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Hiccup saw something that distracted him completely: the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats. A second, tinier dog stood on its back, barking wildly—

Karita?

Suddenly a powerful gust of wind knocked Toothless unbalanced and they dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden bangs out of his eyes, he squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished, and Karita was too small for him to have found her if she was even there in the first place.

"Hiccup, look out!" Eret's anguished yell came from the Gryffindor basket. "Hiccup, look behind you!"

Hiccup looked around wildly. Eric Digson was pelting up the pitch, and a little dark ball was shimmering in the rain-filled air between them…

With a jolt of panic, Hiccup threw himself flat on Toothless' back, and they zoomed towards the Snitch.

"You can do it, bud! Come on!" Hiccup yelled at Toothless, who flapped his wings like mad.

_"I’m trying!"_

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though as someone had turned off the sound, as though Hiccup had suddenly gone deaf—what was going on?

"What—"

Toothless growled as though he sensed something. And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over Hiccup, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving in the stadium below…

Before he'd had time to think, Hiccup had taken his eyes off the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred Dementors were standing below, their hidden faces pointing up at him. It was as though freezing water was rising in his chest, cutting mercilessly at his insides. And then he heard it again…someone was screaming, screaming inside his head…a woman…

" _Not Hiccup, not Hiccup, please not Hiccup_!"

" _Stand aside, you silly woman…stand aside, now…_ "

" _You'll have to kill me first before you take him_ —"

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Hiccup's brain…What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her…she was going to die…she was going to be murdered…

He was falling, falling through the icy mist.

" _Hiccup, be brave…be strong…and remember that your father and I will always love you…_ "

A deep booming voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Hiccup knew no more.

* * *

"He looks a bit peaky."

" _Peaky_! Sweet Thor, what do you expect—he fell over fifty feet!"

"Yeah, come on Fishlegs; let's walk you up to the mountain peak…"

"And see what _you_ look like after you drop."

Hiccup could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he'd got there, or what he'd been doing before he got there. He didn’t even remember who these people were. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been badly beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

That voice jogged a memory or two…Astrid?

"Come on, Astrid," ( _"Aha!"_ Hiccup thought with a vague sense of triumph) "you know as well as I do that he's too stubborn to die—"

"Don’t!…Say that word. Not now."

The scariest thing…hooded black figures…so cold…screaming…

Hiccup's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the Infirmary. The Gryffindor Dragon Racing team, soaked to the bone, was gathered around his bed. Astrid, Ragnar, Fishlegs, and the Thorston twins were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

"Hiccup!" Double said, looking extremely white. "How're you feeling?"

It was as though Hiccup's memory was on fast forward. The lightning…the Signpost to Valhalla…and the Dementors…

"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell," Tuffnut said plainly.

"Really, I never would have guessed," Hiccup said, rolling his eyes. "I meant the match. What happened? Are we having a replay?"

No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into Hiccup like a stone.

"We lost, didn’t we?"

"Digson got the Snitch," Trouble said, not meeting Hiccup’s eye. "He caught it just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you in the water, he tried to call it off, said he wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square…even Eret admits it."

"Where is Eret?" Hiccup asked, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"He, uh, didn’t take the defeat very well," Ashe said.

"He just needs to cool down a bit," Elfchild assured him.

Hiccup put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. Astrid placed an oddly gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Not going to punch me for scaring you, are you?" Hiccup said.

"No one blames you, Hiccup," Astrid said kindly. She lifted his chin so that he was looking at her, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "The Dementors aren't allowed over the lake. It isn’t your fault they crashed the match."

"She's right," Ragnar said.

"Besides, it's not over yet," Double said. "It was one hundred and fifty to fifty, right? So if Hufflepuff lose to Ravenclaw, and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," Trouble said.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw…"

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin lose against Hufflepuff…"

"It all depends on the points—a margin of a hundred either way—"

Hiccup sat there, not saying a word. They had lost…for the first time ever, he had lost a Dragon Racing match.

After ten minutes or so, Bergljot the Helpful came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Double told him. "Don't beat yourself up about this, Hiccup; you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

The team trooped out. Bergljot shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Astrid huddled close to Hiccup, and Ragnar moved to stand at the foot of  his bed, while Fishlegs and the Thorston twins just stood idly.

"You should have seen Alvis," Ruffnut said, shivering at the memory.

"Yeah, he made Thor look like a toddler with a temper tantrum," Tuffnut agreed.

"He used some Wind Magic in order to slow your descent and used Water Magic to cushion your landing," Fishlegs said.

"He then faced the Dementors and pointed his axe at them," Ragnar said. "Then shot some bright light out of it, and it took form of…something. Whatever it was, it threatened them."

"After that he took you back to the island," Astrid said. "You have no idea how worried we were…w-we thought you were…"

Hiccup could see that she was blinking back tears and wanted to comfort her, but he kept thinking about what the Dementors had done to him…With a jolt, he realized that he had forgotten about Toothless.

"What happened to Toothless?"

Astrid looked stricken. "Well, um…"

"What happened to Toothless?" Hiccup demanded, fearing the worse. "Is he—"

"No!" Ragnar said quickly.

"So what happened?" Hiccup asked.

"W-well, the winds were so strong that Toothless couldn’t fight them. He was blown all the way to the island," Ragnar said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And he sort of hit the Whomping Willow."

Hiccup's insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree which stood alone just outside the farms.

"Alvar and Bergljot managed to save him," Ragnar said, and looked at the bed beside Hiccup. "But…not all of him."

Hiccup looked around and saw Toothless on the bed asleep. He looked worse than Hiccup; he was wrapped in bandages and Hiccup could see several bruises, but the thing that caught his attention was Toothless' tail.

One of his tailfins was missing.

"He got off easy," Fishlegs said, and for the first time Hiccup noticed he was holding a bag. "Your saddle wasn't so lucky."

Slowly he raised the bag up and tipped it upside down over his bed. A dozen bits of leather fell onto the bed, the only remains of Hiccup's faithful, finally beaten saddle.

* * *

**Yikes.**

**You'd think that Dementors showing up and incapacitating a player (especially a Seeker) would negate the results, but apparently not.**

**Highlight of chapter: Astrid trying to comfort Hiccup. Bless her heart, she's trying.**


	10. The Marauder's Map

**Hey guys. Remember that bit of advice I told you to** **remember around the halfway point? Keep it in mind...Specifically towards the end of the chapter.**

**(Warning—This chapter is well over eight thousand words long. Yes I am very proud of that number. Be advised that this will not be a quick read, and that you may need to read it twice for it all to sink in. You have been warned)**

* * *

_Chapter Ten: The Marauder's Map_

* * *

Bergljot insisted on keeping Hiccup in the Infirmary for the rest of the weekend. He didn't argue or complain; it meant he could stay close to Toothless. Bergljot had assured him that the dragon would make a full recovery, but there was nothing she could do to fix his tailfin. Not only had Hiccup lost his saddle, but Toothless had lost the ability to fly, and that was the last thing he wanted for his best non-human friend.

He had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. Gobber told him not to worry, because he knew that Hiccup would find a way to help Toothless fly again, but Hiccup wasn't sure that was possible. Egill Hofferson had given him a "get well" card and said that Astrid had helped him make it, but he knew that was a lie before Egill had finished saying it, because Astrid had loudly refused to leave his side for longer than a few minutes. The card itself sang shrilly unless Hiccup kept it shut under his bowl of fruit.

The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Eret, who told Hiccup he was sorry about Toothless and his saddle, and assured him that he didn't blame him in the slightest. Ragnar only left Hiccup's bedside at night, and Astrid had to be assured she’d be allowed back in to even leave for a few minutes. But nothing anyone said or did could make Hiccup feel any better, because they only knew half of what was troubling him.

He hadn't told anyone about the Signpost of Valhalla, not even Astrid and Ragnar, because he knew Astrid would panic and Ragnar would scoff. The fact remained, however, that it had now appeared twice, and both appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, he had nearly been run over by the Dragon Night Bus; the second, he’d fallen fifty feet off of his dragon. Was that big black dog going to haunt him until he actually died? Was he going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the beast?

There was only one person who could possibly have the answer, but he’d have to wait until he was out of the Infirmary to talk to her.

But the thing that got him down was the Dementors. Hiccup felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one collapsed every time they went near one…no one else heard echoes in their head of their dying mother.

For Hiccup now knew who that screaming voice belonged to. He had heard her words, heard them over and over again during night hours in the Infirmary while he lay awake, and staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the Dementors approached him, he heard the last moments of his mother's life, her attempts to protect him, Hiccup, from Drago Bludvist, and Drago's sick, booming laughter before he murdered her…Hiccup doze fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified screaming, jerking awake only to dwell again on the sound of his mother's voice.

* * *

It was a relief to return on Monday to the noise and bustle of the main school, where he was forced to think about other things, even if he had to endure Snotlout's taunting.

Snotlout was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor's defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Hiccup falling off of Toothless. Snotlout spent much of their next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon; Astrid finally cracked, and probably would have killed Snotlout if Hiccup hadn't held her back. This caused Asketill to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

"If Asketill's teaching Combat Arts again, I'm going to chop my arm off," Astrid said darkly, as they headed towards the arena after lunch. "Check who's in there, Rag."

Ragnar peered into the arena.

"You can keep both your arms, Astrid; it's Johann."

It certainly looked as though Johann had been ill. His clothes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled jovially at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Asketill's behavior while Johann had been ill.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?"

"We didn’t know anything about werewolves—"

"And he asked for two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Asketill we haven't covered them yet?" Johann asked, frowning slightly.

The babble broke out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind—"

"—he wouldn't listen—"

"— _two rolls of parchment_ —"

Johann smiled at the look of indignation on every face.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Asketill. You don't have to do the essay."

"Drat," Ragnar said, looking irksome. "I've already finished it!"

Johann laughed. "It’ll be extra credit, then."

They had a very enjoyable lesson. Johann had brought along a glass box containing a Nokken, a webbed foot creature who seemed as though he was made of mist, rather frail and harmless-looking.

"Lures travelers into bogs and into leaky boats," Johann said, as they took notes. "They sing songs in order to trick people into getting into the water—then—"

The Nokken made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.

When the horn blew, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Hiccup amongst them, but—

"Wait a moment, Hiccup," Johann called, "I'd like a word."

Hiccup doubled back and watched Johann cover the Nokken's box with a tattered cloth.

"I heard about the match," Johann said, turning back to his desk and piling books into his trunk, "and I'm sorry about Toothless."

"Bergljot said he needs time to heal, but he should be back to his feet soon," Hiccup said.

"And his tailfin?"

"Bergljot said there was nothing she could do."

Johann sighed heavily.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Berk. People used to play a game, trying to get close enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Breezy Gudgeon lost an arm and both his eyes, and we were forbidden to go near it. Toothless is lucky to be alive; it's a shame your saddle wasn't as fortunate."

"A saddle can be replaced," Hiccup said. "A friend can’t."

Johann chuckled. "Your mother said the same thing, once."

Hearing about his mother reminded Hiccup of the Dementors. "Did you hear about the Dementors, too?" he asked with difficulty.

Johann looked at him quickly.

"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have ever seen Alvis that enraged. They’ve been growing restless for quite some time…furious at his refusal to let them hover over the lake…I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," Hiccup said. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. " _Why_? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Johann said sharply, as though he had read Hiccup's mind. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that others could scarcely comprehend."

A ray of wintry sunlight fell across the arena, illuminating Johann's numerous grey hairs and the lines on his young face.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that roam Midgard, even by demon standards. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, and they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. The stronger your aura, the worse they affect you. Even Muggles can feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too close to a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something more like itself—soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the very worst experiences of your life. And the worst that has happened to _you_ , Hiccup, is enough to make anyone fall off their dragon. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

"When they get near me—" Hiccup stared at Johann's desk, his throat tight, "I can hear Drago murdering my mum."

Johann made a motion with his arm as though he had made to grip Hiccup's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then—

"Why did they have to come to the match?" Hiccup said bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," Johann said coolly, shutting his trunk with a snap. "Alvis won't let them into the academy, so their supply of human prey has dried up…I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Dragon Racing stadium. All that excitement…emotions running high…it was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," Hiccup muttered. Johann nodded grimly.

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

"But Alvin the Treacherous escaped from them," Hiccup said slowly. "He got away…"

Johann's trunk slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.

"Yes," he said, straightening up. "Alvin must have found a way to fight them off. I wouldn't have believed it possible… Dementors are supposed to drain a Viking of his powers if he is left alone with them for too long…"

" _You_ made that Dementor on the train back off," Hiccup said suddenly.

"There are—certain defenses one can use," Johann said. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defenses?" Hiccup said at once. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Hiccup—quite the opposite, actually…"

Johann looked into Hiccup's determined face, hesitated, then said, "But if the Dementors are taking an interest in you… then I'll try to help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

* * *

What with the promise of Anti-Dementor lessons from Johann, the thought that he might never have to hear his mother's death again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Dragon Racing match at the end of November, Hiccup's mood took a definite upturn. Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match.

Eret became re-possessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Hiccup saw no hint of a Dementor upon the lake. Alvis's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.

Two weeks before the end of term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grass was revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the mountain, there was a buzz of Snoggletog in the air. Alvar the Charmer, the Core Magic Master, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Astrid and Ragnar had decided to remain at Berk, and though Astrid said it was because she couldn't stand two weeks with Askeladden, and Ragnar insisted he needed to use the library, Hiccup wasn't fooled; they were doing it to keep him company, and he was very grateful.

To the delight of everyone who wasn’t Hiccup, there was to be another Berksmeade trip on the very last weekend of term.

"We can do all our Snoggletog shopping there!" Ragnar said. "Mum would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"

Resigned to the fact that he would be the only third-year staying behind again, Hiccup borrowed a copy of _Which Saddle_ from Eret, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes. He had been riding one of the academy's saddles at team practice, and even though Toothless was feeling a lot better now, he still couldn’t fly because of his missing tailfin, so Astrid had been kind enough to let him use Stormfly during practice.

But with the ancient Shooting Star, which was very slow and jerky, and the fact that he and Stormfly didn't have a very strong bond, Hiccup knew that he needed a new saddle and think of a way to make Toothless fly, or else he’d have to leave the team, because trying to replace Toothless was a thought he just couldn’t bear.

During their last Soothsaying lesson, after Gothi tried to teach them a different way to read cracks in bones, Hiccup told Astrid and Ragnar that he needed to go back for something.

"You’d best hurry along, dear," Gothi said without looking at him. "If you're late for Phlegma’s Transfiguration lesson, she'll have my head."

"I only want to talk to you about… about the Signpost of Valhalla," Hiccup said.

Gothi turned to face him with a surprised expression on her face. "…Have a seat, then."

Hiccup sat down and began explaining how he saw the big, black dog the day he ran away from his aunt and uncles, how Karita had dashed after it, and how he had seen it before he had nearly been run over by the Dragon Night Bus and saw it again before falling fifty feet off of Toothless.

He left out the dreams, though. They felt too personal, too real, to share with a woman he didn’t even like all that much.

"What do you think?" Hiccup asked in the almost deafening silence that followed.

"To be honest, my dear…I don't know," Gothi said. "It is clearly a sign that something big in your life is going to happen, but what it is, I cannot say for certain." She then looked at him with an even more curious look on her face. "But I can tell that there is something else you want to discuss…your dragon Toothless, perhaps."

"He's missing a tailfin; he'll never fly again, and it's all my fault," Hiccup said.

Gothi slammed her staff on the ground, making Hiccup yelp in surprise. "Tell me, dear, did you ask the Dementors to show up? No, you most certainly did not!" She took a deep, calming breath. "And besides, "never" is a very long time, and you and Toothless still have many more adventures to come. He’ll fly again, lad. You just need the right _tools_."

Hiccup thought of the girl again, of what had been happening the last time he’d dreamt of her…An idea began to form in his head.

"Thank you, Ma’am," Hiccup said. He got up and was about to leave when Gothi grabbed ahold of his wrist.

"You’re a good lad, Hiccup," she said, tears welling up once more. "Better than most I’ve met. You deserve so much better…"

She released him, and Hiccup left as quickly as he could without seeming rude.

* * *

On the Saturday morning of the Berksmeade trip, Hiccup bid goodbye to Astrid and Ragnar, who were wrapped in capes and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase alone, and headed back towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet.

"Psst—Hiccup! Over here!"

He turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Double and Trouble peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed Valkyrie.

"What are you doing?" Hiccup asked. "Shouldn’t you guys be heading to Berksmeade now?"

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go home," Double said, with a sly wink. "Come in here…"

He nodded towards an empty classroom to left of the one-eyed statue. Hiccup followed Double and Trouble inside. Trouble closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Hiccup.

"Early Snoggletog present for you, Hiccup," he said.

Double pulled something from inside his vest pocket with a flourish and laid it one of the desks. It was a large, square, extremely worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it.

"An old bit of parchment," Hiccup said, suspecting it to be one of Double and Trouble's jokes. "Gee, just what I always wanted."

"This isn't just some old bit of parchment, Hiccup," Double said.

"This, Hiccup, is the secret of our success," Trouble said, giving the parchment a fond pat. "It's not easy, giving it away, but we decided last night that your needs are greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it all by heart," Double said. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."

"Um…mind explaining to me how a bit of old parchment is supposed to get me to Berksmeade?" Hiccup said.

"I told you, it isn’t just some bit of old parchment!" Double said, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Hiccup had mortally offended him. "You explain it, Trouble."

"Gladly." Trouble grinned. "You see Hiccup, when we were in our first year, young, carefree and innocent—"

Hiccup snorted. He doubted whether Double and Trouble had ever been innocent.

"—well, more innocent than we are _now_ , anyways—we got into a spot of bother with Mildew the Unpleasant."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some odd reason—"

"So he hauled us off to his house and started threatening us with the usual—"

"—detention—"

"—disembowelment—"

"—and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_."

"You didn't—"Hiccup said, starting to grin as well.

"We did," Trouble admitted, looking very much pleased with himself.

"What would you've done?" Double shrugged. "Trouble caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb; I whipped the drawer open and grabbed— _this_."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," Trouble said. "We don't reckon Mildew ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it in the first place."

"And _you_ know how to work it?"

"Oh yes," Double said, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this academy."

"You've got to be kidding me," Hiccup said, looking at the ragged bit of old parchment.

"Oh, we're quite serious," Trouble said. "If fact…"

He took out his axe, touched the parchment lightly and said, " _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that Trouble's axe had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly red words, that proclaimed:

**_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Forge and Fangs_ **

**_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_ **

**_Are proud to present_ **

**THE MARAUDER'S MAP**

It was a map showing every detail of the Berk fort and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing was the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labelled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Hiccup bent over it. A labelled dot in the top left corner showed that Alvis was pacing in his house; the caretaker's sheep, Fungus, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Hiccup's eyes travelled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else.

The map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead—

"Right into Berksmeade," Double said, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Mildew knows about four"—he pointed each of them out—"but we're sure we're the only ones who know about _these_. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in—completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. You’d have to be an idiot to try and go that way. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Forge and Fangs," Trouble sighed, patting the head of the map fondly. "We owe them so much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," Double added solemnly.

("Noble" wasn’t the word that popped into Hiccup’s head)

"Right," Trouble said briskly, "don't forget to wipe it after you've used it—"

"—or anyone can read it," Double said warningly.

"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."

"Why give it to me?" Hiccup asked, looking at them questionably. "I would have thought you'd give it to Ruff and Tuff."

"Ah, those two have definitely got the making of great mischief-makers," Double said.

"But they lack the certain unpredictableness that you have, Hiccup," Trouble said. "Besides, you’re like family, except you don’t annoy us."

"Now then, young Hiccup," Double said in an uncanny impersonation of Askeladden, "mind you behave yourself."

"See you in Berksmeade," Trouble said, winking.

They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.

Hiccup stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. He watched the tiny ink Fungus turn left and pause to sniff at something on the floor. If Mildew really didn't know…he wouldn't have to pass the Dementors at all…

But even as he stood there, flooded with excitement, something Hiccup had once heard Mr Hofferson say came floating out of his memory.

_Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain._

This map was certainly one of those dangerous magical objects that Mr Hofferson had been talking about… _Aids for Magical Mischief Makers_ …but then, Hiccup reasoned, he only wanted to use it to get into Berksmeade, it wasn't as though he wanted to steal anything or attack anyone…and Double and Trouble had been using it for years without anything horrible happening.

And the names sounded familiar…

Hiccup traced the secret passage to Honeydukes with his finger.

Then, quite suddenly, as though following orders, he rolled up the map, stuffed it inside his fur vest, and hurried to the door of the classroom. He opened it a couple of inches.

There was no one outside.

Very carefully, he edged out of the room and slipped behind the statue of the one-eyed Valkyrie.

What did he have to do? He pulled out the map again and saw to his astonishment, that a new ink figure had appeared upon it, labelled "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III". This figure was standing exactly where the real Hiccup was standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. Hiccup watched carefully. His little ink self-appeared to be tapping the Valkyrie with his minute sword. Hiccup quickly took out his real sword and tapped the statue. Nothing happened. He looked back at the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to his figure. The word inside it read " _Endeavor_ ".

"Endeavor!" Hiccup whispered, tapping the stone Valkyrie once again.

Instantly, the statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a person roughly Hiccup’s size. Hiccup glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then tucked the map away again, hoisted himself into the hole head first and pushed himself forwards.

He slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. He stood up, looking around. It was pitch dark. He held his hand out and created a fireball to shed some light on his surroundings and saw that he was in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. He pulled out his sword, raised the map, tapped it with the tip of his sword and muttered, "Mischief managed!" The map went blank at once. He folded it carefully, tucked it inside his fur vest, then, heart beating fast, both excited and apprehensive, he set off.

The passage twisted and turned; Hiccup could tell at once that this tunnel was made by a Whispering Death after being in the tunnel of its large cousin, the Screaming Death. Hiccup hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor, holding the fireball out in front of him.

It took ages, but Hiccup had the thought of Honeydukes, of being with his friends, to sustain him. After what felt like an hour, the passage began to rise. Painting, Hiccup sped up, his face hot, his feet very cold.

Ten minutes later, he came to the foot of some worn, stone steps which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Hiccup began to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count as he climbed, watching his feet…then, without warning, his head hit something hard.

Hiccup stumbled back, muttering curses under his breath, before looking at what he had hit.

It seemed to be a trapdoor. For a moment Hiccup stood still, listening with all his might. He couldn't hear any sound above him. Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge.

He was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Hiccup climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it—it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was almost impossible to tell it was there. Hiccup crept slowly towards the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Now he could definitely hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door.

Wondering what he ought to do, he suddenly heard a door open much closer at hand; somebody was about to come downstairs.

"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out—"a woman's voice said.

A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Hiccup leapt behind an enormous crate and waited for the footsteps to pass. He heard the man shifting boxes against the wall opposite, muttering to himself. He might not get another chance—

Quickly and silently, Hiccup dodged out from his hiding place and climbed the stairs; looking back, he saw an enormous backside and a shiny bald head buried in a box. Hiccup reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it, and found himself behind the counter of Honeydukes—he ducked, crept sideways and then straightened up.

Honeydukes was so crowded with Berk students that for once no one looked twice at Hiccup. He edged amongst them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined the look that would spread across Balder's piggy face if he could see where Hiccup was now.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizzbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Astrid had mentioned; along yet another wall were "Special Effects" sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny Pepper Dragons ("breathe fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice ("hear your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermints creams shaped like toads ("hop realistically in the stomach!"), fragile super-spun quills and exploding bonbons.

Hiccup squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth-years, and nimbly avoided Fishlegs, who was guiding someone towards the register. He saw a sign hanging in the furthest corner of the shop ("Unusual Tastes"). Astrid and Ragnar were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Hiccup sneaked up behind them.

"Urgh, no, Hiccup won't want one of those, they're for dark-elves and other human-like creatures that have a taste for human blood, I expect," Ragnar was saying.

"How about we get him these, then?" Astrid asked, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Ragnar's noise.

"Definitely not," Hiccup said.

Astrid nearly dropped the jar.

" _Hiccup?!_ " Ragnar yelled. "What in the name of Thor are you doing here? And how—how did you—?"

"Have you learnt to use Teleportation Magic?" Astrid asked.

"'Course not," Hiccup said. He dropped his voice so that none of the sixth-years could hear him, and told them all about the Marauder's Map.

"How come Double and Trouble never gave it to _me?_!" Astrid said, outraged. "I'm their sister!"

Hiccup recalled what the twins had said about him being family, except that he didn’t annoy them. He decided, for their sakes, to not mention this to Astrid.

"Let me guess," Ragnar said, his tone disapproving, "you're not going to hand it over to Phlegma, are you."

"If he did that, he might as well hand over his Invisibility Cape," Astrid said.

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Mildew would know Double and Trouble had stolen it!"

"But what about Alvin the Treacherous?" Ragnar hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the fort! The teachers have to know!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," Hiccup said quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Double and Trouble reckon Mildew already knows about four of them. And the other three—one of them is caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them is got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through—well—it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar—so unless he already knew it was there—"

Hiccup hesitated. What if Alvin _did_ know the passage was there? Astrid, however, cleared her throat significantly, and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.

_BY ORDER OF THE DRAGON MINISTRY_

_Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the street of Berksmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Berksmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Alvin the Treacherous. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._

_Merry Snoggletog!_

"See?" Astrid said quietly. "I'd like to see Alvin try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Rag, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break in, wouldn't they? They live right over the shop!"

"Yes, but—but—" Ragnar seemed to be struggling to find another problem. "Look, Hiccup still shouldn't be coming into Berksmeade; he hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in big trouble! And it's not nightfall yet—what if Alvin the Treacherous turns up today, even right now?"

"He'd have a job spotting Hiccup in this," Astrid said, nodding through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. "Come on, Rag, its Snoggletog, Hiccup deserves a break."

Ragnar looked as if he wanted to argue some more, but he finally sighed in defeat.

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms. "I just don't want my best mate to get _murdered_ , that's all."

"Don't worry, Rag, I'll be fine," Hiccup said, placing a hand on Ragnar's shoulder.

Ragnar sighed, but there was a small, begrudging smile on his face.

After Astrid and Ragnar had paid for all their sweets, the three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside.

Berksmeade looked like a Snoggletog card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted torches hanging in the trees.

Hiccup shivered; unlike the other two, he didn't have his cape. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Astrid and Ragnar shouting through their scarves.

"That's the Post Office—"

"Zonko's is up there—"

"We could go up to the Shrieking Shack—"

"Tell you what," Astrid said, her teeth chattering, "Shall we go for a Butterbeer in the Green Dragon?"

Hiccup was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering tiny inn.

It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm and smoky. Hiccup loved it immediately.

A curvy sort of woman with a fair, happy face and long black hair was calmly serving a bunch of rowdy Dwarves up at the bar.

"That's Jorunnr the Jolly!" Ragnar said a little too quickly. "I-I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red.

Laughing, Hiccup and Astrid made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Snoggletog tree which stood next to the roaring fireplace. Ragnar came back a few minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot Butterbeer.

"Merry Snoggletog, guys!" Astrid said, happily raising her tankard.

Hiccup drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, and it seemed to warm every bit of him from the inside out.

A sudden breeze ruffled his hair. The door of the Green Dragon had opened again. Hiccup looked over the rim of his tankard and choked.

Phlegma and Alvar had just entered the pub in a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Gobber, who was deep in conversation with Fudge the Mighty, Chief of the Dragon Ministry.

In an instant, Astrid and Ragnar had both placed their hands on the top of Hiccup's head and forced him off his stool and under the table. Dripping with Butterbeer and crouching out of sight, Hiccup clutched his now empty tankard and watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move towards the bar, pause, then turn and walk right towards him.

Ragnar did a quick bit of Wind Magic to lift the Snoggletog tree beside their table. It drifted sideways and landed right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Staring through the dense lower branches, Hiccup saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, and then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and Chief as they sat down.

Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing fluffy turquoise boots, and heard a woman's voice.

"A small Gillywater—"

"Mine," Phlegma's voice said.

"Four pints of mulled mead—"

"Ta, Jorunnr," Gobber said.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella—"

"Mmm!" Alvar said, smacking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Chief."

"Thank you, Jorunnr, m'dear," Fudge's voice said. "Lovely you see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"

"Well, thank you very much, Chief."

Hiccup watched the fluffy boots march away and back again. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his throat. Why hadn't it occurred to him that this was the last weekend of term for the teachers, too? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed to sneak back into Honeydukes if he wanted to return to the academy tonight…Astrid's leg gave a nervous twitch next to him.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Chief?" Jorunnr’s voice asked.

Hiccup saw the lower part of Fudge's thick body twist in his chair as though he was checking for eavesdroppers.

_"Oh, if only he knew,"_ he thought bitterly.

Then Fudge said, in a very quiet voice, "What else, m'dear, but Alvin the Treacherous? I daresay you heard what happened up at academy at Halloween?"

"I, uh, I _did_ hear a rumor or two…" Jorunnr admitted.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Gobber?" Phlegma said exasperatedly.

"Do you think Alvin's still in the area, Chief?" Jorunnr whispered.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge said shortly.

"You know that the Dementors have searched my pub twice?" Jorunnr said, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away…it's very bad for business, Chief."

"Jorunnr, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge said uncomfortably. "It's a necessary precaution…unfortunate, yes, but there you are…I've just met with some of them. They're in an absolute rage against Alvis—he won't let them patrol around the fort."

"I should think not," Phlegma said sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"I'll drink ter that," Gobber said.

"Hear, hear!" tiny Alvar squeaked, his feet dangling a foot from the ground.

"All the same," Fudge demurred, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse…we all know what Alvin's capable of…"

"I still have trouble believing it," Jorunnr said thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over the Dark side, Alvin was the last I'd have thought…I mean, I remember him when he was just a boy at Berk. Charming, bright, wonderful sense of humor. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Jorunnr," Fudge said gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst he did?" Jorunnr repeated, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those people and his little girl, you mean?"

"I certainly do," Fudge said.

"I can't believe that. I barely believe what I already know. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Berk, Jorunnr," Phlegma murmured. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," Jorunnr said, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here—ooh; they used to make me laugh. Gave them free drinks more than once. They were quite the double act, Alvin Harkstow and Stoick Haddock!"

Hiccup dropped his tankard with a loud _clunk_. Astrid kicked him.

"Precisely," Phlegma said, apparently not noticing. (Thank the Gods) "Alvin and Stoick were the Ringleaders of their little gang. You were a member too, Gobber, if I recall, even after you were expelled."

"Aye, those were the days," Gobber sighed cheerfully.

"I admit they were both bright, but I don't think Berk has ever had such a pair of troublemakers—"

"I dunno about that," Gobber chuckled. "Those Hofferson twins could give us a run fer our money. And I'm not counting the Thorston twins out, either."

"You'd have thought Alvin and Stoick were brothers!" Alvar chimed in. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," Fudge said. "Stoick trusted Alvin beyond all his other friends; that was why he was called Alvin the Trustworthy. Er, no offence, Gobber."

"Ah, none taken," Gobber said.

"Anyway, nothing changed when they left the academy. Almost at once their little gang became an army to fight against the Dragon Lord, led by Stoick of course. Alvin was his second-in-command and one of his most trusted advisors. Then he was Stoick's best man when he married Valka. And after young Hiccup was born, they immediately named him his godfather. Hiccup has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Aye, I had teh lie and tell Hiccup and his friends that Alvin was dead," Gobber said.

"Not a total lie, Gobber," Phlegma said sadly, "the Alvin we knew when we were young is long dead."

"Why tell him that, because Alvin turned out to be in league with the Dragon Lord?" Jorunnr whispered.

"Worse even than that, m'dear…" Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Dragon Lord was after the last of the Haddock clan. We’re not sure why, but it was not because Stoick was the leader of our little army. Alvis, who while not the leader, was Stoick’s other adviser, had a number of useful spies that were leaking information to him. Well, one of them tipped him off, and he alerted Stoick and Valka at once. He advised them to go into hiding and he'll take over until the danger passed. Well of course, the Dragon Lord wasn't an easy person to hide from. Alvis told them that their best chance was the Holy Shield of Asgard."

"How does that work?" Jorunnr asked, breathless with interest. Alvar cleared his throat.

"An immensely complex bit of Light Magic," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and in henceforth impossible to find—unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, the Dragon Lord could search the village where Valka and Stoick were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting-room window!"

"So Alvin was the Haddocks' Secret-Keeper?" Jorunnr whispered.

"Naturally," Phlegma said. "Stoick told Alvis that Alvin would rather die than tell where they were, that Alvin and his family were planning to go into hiding themselves… and yet, Alvis remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Haddock’s Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Alvin?" Jorunnr gasped.

"He was sure that somebody close to the Haddocks had been keeping the Dragon Lord informed of their movements," Phlegma said darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing lot of information to the Dragon Lord."

"But Stoick insisted on using Alvin?"

"He did," Fudge said heavily. "He was just too stubborn to listen. And then, barely a week after the Holy Shield of Asgard had been performed—"

"Alvin betrayed them?" Jorunnr breathed.

"He did indeed. Alvin tired of his double-agent role; he was ready to declare his support openly for the Dragon Lord, and he seemed to have planned this for the moment of the Haddocks' death. But, as we all know, the Dragon Lord met his downfall in little Hiccup Haddock. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Alvin in a very nasty position indeed. His Master had fallen at the very moment when he, Alvin, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it—"

"I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people!" Gobber growled. "I met him at the remains o’ Stoick and Valka's house…no doubt wanting teh kill Hiccup before I got there…he helped me rescue Hiccup, the poor little guy, with a great slash across his forehead. I didn't know at the time that he was Stoick and Valka's Secret-Keeper. I thought he'd just head the news o' the Dragon Lord's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. Clinging teh baby Raghilda like his life depended on it. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Gobber roared.

Half the bar went silent.

"Gobber, calm down!" Phlegma said. "I share your anger, but you mustn’t lose your head!"

"How was I ter know he wasn’t upset abou' Stoick and Valka? It was the Dragon Lord he cared about! An' then he says, 'Give Hiccup ter me, Gob, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him—' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Alvis, an' I told Alvin no, Alvis said Hiccup was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Alvin argued, but in the end he gave in. He told me to look after Groundsplitter."

Hiccup dropped his tankard again. Groundsplitter was Alvin's dragon, and _he_ had ridden on him.

"I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He always treated Groundsplitter like family, a child right in league with the twins."

Wait a minute—what twins?

"He always had a saying, ya know— 'Never count someone dead, until you see their body right in front of them—'! If that's not proof that he was on the Dragon Lord’s side, I don't know what is! Alvin mainly showed up teh find the remains o’ his Master, but Alvis knew he'd bin the Haddocks' Secret-Keeper. Alvin knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him."

" _But what if I'd given Hiccup to him, eh?_ I bet he'd've taken Groundsplitter halfway out ter sea. His bes' friend's son! His own godson! But when a Viking goes over ter the dark side, there's nothing' and no one that matters to 'em any more…Not even their daughters."

"He had a son, too," Jorunnr said suddenly. "Raghilda’s twin brother. Sweetest baby I ever saw. What happened to him?"

"He lived," Phlegma said. "His mother had him that terrible night. He’s a third year at Berk now."

"You don’t mean…oh, I should have known! I saw him right before you came in. He came up to get a few butterbeers for his friends, the way Alvin would’ve. I swear, when I saw him coming, I felt like I’d gone back in time!"

"I thought the same, first time I saw him," Gobber said sadly. "Looks just like his father, Ragnar does."

Hiccup heard a tankard fall behind him and guessed that it was Ragnar. His mind was reeling from all of the revelations.

A long silence fell upon everyone. Then Jorunnr said, quietly, "Alvin didn't manage to disappear, though. The Dragon Ministry caught up with him next day."

"Alas, if only we had," Fudge said bitterly. "It wasn’t us who found him. It was Savage the Sniveling—another of the Haddocks' friends. The man was maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Alvin had been the Haddocks' Secret-Keeper, he went after Alvin himself."

"Savage…that lanky little boy who was always tagging along after them at Berk?" Jorunnr said in disbelief.

"Hero-worshipping Stoick and Alvin," Phlegma said. "He was never quite in their league, talent-wise. I called him a coward more than once. You can imagine how I—how I regret that now…" She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

"There, now, Phlegma," Fudge said kindly, "Savage died a hero's death. Eye-witness—Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later—told us how Savage cornered Alvin. They say he was shaking. "Stoick and Valka, Alvin! How could you?!" And then went for his bone club. Well, of course, Alvin was quicker. Blew Savage to smithereens…"

Phlegma blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid man…foolish oaf…he was always hopeless at dueling…he should have left it to the Ministry…"

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Alvin before Savage did, I wouldn't've messes around with weapons and crystal eyes—I'd've ripped him limb—from—limb," Gobber growled.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Gobber," Fudge said sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Vikings from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Alvin once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Alvin murdered all those people. I—I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crate in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. There were bodies everywhere. Muggles were screaming. Little baby Raghilda-—he’d had her in his arms according to one witness-—was nowhere to be found. Died in the blast, I imagine. And Alvin standing there, laughing, with what was left of Savage in front of him…a blood-stained cape and helmet and a few—a few fragments—"

Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown.

"Well, there you have it, Jorunnr," Fudge said thickly. "Alvin was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and Savage received the Order of Haddock, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Alvin's been in Azkaban ever since."

Jorunnr let out a long sigh.

"Is it true he's mad, Chief?"

"I wish I could say that he was," Fudge said slowly. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Savage, Raghilda, and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man—cruel…pointless. Yet I met Alvin on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark, there's no sense in them…but I was shocked at how _normal_ Alvin seemed. He spoke quite rationally, seemed almost _bored_ —asked if I'd finished with my newspaper; cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Actually got _emotional_ at one point, asked if I could tell him anything about his son…Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him—and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. There are Dementors outside his door, day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" Jorunnr asked. "Good gracious, Chief, he isn't trying to re-join the Dragon Lord, is he?"

"I daresay that is his—uh—eventual plan," Fudge said evasively. "But we hope to catch Alvin long before that. I must say, the Dragon Lord alone and friendless is one thing…but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again…"

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.

"You know, Fudge, if you're dining with the Headmaster we'd better head back up to the fort," Phlegma said.

One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Hiccup took the weight of their owners once more; hems of capes swung into sight and Jorunnr’s fluffy boots disappeared behind the bar. The door of the Green Dragon opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers disappeared.

"Hiccup…"

Astrid and Ragnar’s faces appeared under the table. Ragnar’s face resembled a sheet, and his eyes were wide in horror and disbelief. Astrid looked stunned. And they were both staring at Hiccup, clearly lost for words.

* * *

**Ta-da! What a twist!**

**Did I actually surprise anyone with the reveal that Alvin is Ragnar's father? Please let me know; I am genuinely curious.**

**Highlight of chapter: The reveal, definitely. Mostly Journnr's bits.**

**A certain part of this chapter has me (the reader me, not the author me) fuming, but it's because of something I haven't reveal to you guys yet, so I'll save it for later.**

**Any suggestions for what I should do in future chapters? Feel free to let me know; I'll probably use it. Credit is always given.**

**Please remember to comment, bookmark, and/or leave a kudos—everyone who does gets a shout-out at the end.**

**(Gods, I haven't done that in a while)**

**With all that said and done, I'll see you guys next week. Bye!**

**♥**


	11. The Firebolt

**...Welp, here we go. The chapter where everything changes. There's no going back.**

**Someone please hold me, I've never been so scared in my life.**

***deep breath* Let's do this.**

* * *

_Chapter Eleven: The Firebolt_

* * *

Hiccup didn't have a very clear idea how he had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel and into the fort once more. All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing, because his head was still pounding with the conversation he had just overheard.

Why had nobody ever told him? Alvis, Gobber, Phlegma, Mr Hofferson, Fudge…why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Hiccup's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them?

He wondered if Ragnar was going through the same thing, if not worse. They could have at least _told_ him about his father. And his sister, for that matter. It did at least explain why his mother was uneasy when she left him at the Dragon’s Flame. She’d already lost one of her children to her ex-fiancé, and likely feared she might lose the other.

Astrid and Ragnar watched Hiccup nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what they'd overheard, because Askeladden was sitting close by them. When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Double and Trouble had set off half-a-dozen Dungbombs in a fit end-of-term high spirits.

Hiccup, who didn't want Double and Trouble asking him whether he'd reached Berksmeade or not, sneaked quietly up to the empty boys’ dormitory, and headed straight for his bedside cabinet. He pushed his schoolbooks aside and quickly found what he was looking for—the leather-bound photo album Gobber had given him two years ago, which was full of Viking pictures of his mother and father. He sat down on his bed, drew the blanket over him, and started turning the pages, searching, until…

He stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding day. There was his mountain of a father waving up at him, beaming, his emerald green eyes (which Hiccup had inherited) sparkling. There was his mother, practically glowing with joy, arm in arm with his father. And there…that must be him. Their best man…Hiccup had never given him much thought before.

If he hadn't known it was the same person, he would never have guessed it was Alvin in this old photograph. With a pang, he noticed that Alvin really did look a lot like Ragnar—they had the same hair, both in color and length (But Ragnar’s hair had been cut shorter than normal, he remembered suddenly), the same light green eyes, they even had similar body types, though Alvin was much, much larger than his son was.

Had Alvin already been working for Drago when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him? Did he realize he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years which would make him unrecognizable?

_But the Dementors don't affect him_ , Hiccup thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face that looked far too much like that of his best friend. _He doesn't have to hear my Mum screaming if they get too close_ —

Hiccup slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his clothes and pulled on his pajamas and got into bed.

The dormitory door opened a crack.

"Hiccup?" Astrid's uncertain voice called. "Are you alright?"

Instinct told him to answer her. But Hiccup lay perfectly still, pretending to be asleep. After a long, tense moment, he heard Astrid leave again, and he rolled over on his back, his eyes wide open.

Hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Hiccup like a poison. He could see Alvin laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Alvin the Treacherous blasting Savage the Sniveling (who oddly resembled Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston) into a thousand bloody pieces. He could hear (though he had no idea what Alvin's voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. "It has happened, my Lord… the Haddock's have chosen me as their Secret-Keeper…" And then another voice came, a deep, booming laughter; the same laugh that Hiccup heard inside his head whenever the Dementors drew near…

* * *

"Hiccup, you—you look terrible."

Hiccup hadn't managed to sleep until daybreak. He had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed and gone down the spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Astrid, who was sharpening her axe, and Ragnar, who had spread his homework over three tables.

"Where is everyone?" Hiccup asked.

"Gone! Along with the dragons, except for Toothless. It's the first day of the holidays, remember?" Astrid said, watching Hiccup closely. "It's nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in minute."

Hiccup slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the window. Karita was curled up in front of the fire like a small, fluffy rug.

"Hic, we need to talk," Astrid said, looking at him with clear concern.

"I'm fine," Hiccup said, rather unconvincingly.

"Hiccup, listen," Ragnar said, exchanging a look with Astrid, "you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday—"

"I'm not holding your father against you, if that’s what you think," Hiccup said, not looking at him. "We can't help our parentage."

"I wasn’t talking about you hating me for what my "loving father" did to you," Ragnar said crossly. "I'm just trying to tell you not to do something stupid."

"Like what?" Hiccup said, even though he already knew.

"Like trying to go after Alvin," Astrid said sharply.

Hiccup could tell they had been rehearsing this conversation while he had been asleep. He didn't say anything.

"You won't, will you, Hiccup?" Ragnar asked.

"Because Alvin's not worth dying for," Astrid said.

Hiccup looked at them and felt a bit angry. They didn't seem to understand at all.

"D'you know what I see and hear every time a Dementor gets too near me?" Astrid and Ragnar shook their heads, looking apprehensive. "I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Drago. And if you'd heard _your_ mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Drago after her—"

"I'm just as angry as you, Hiccup," Ragnar said, getting up and pacing. "He left my mother for an evil tyrant, got my best mate’s parents killed, and murdered fourteen people, including my—" he choked "—my sister. But the Dementors will catch him, and he'll go back to Azkaban and—and serve him right!"

"You heard what Fudge said. Alvin isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others."

"So what are you saying?" Astrid asked, looking annoyed. "You want to kill Alvin?"

Hiccup didn't answer that. Truth be told, he didn't know what he wanted to do. All he knew was that idea of doing nothing, while Alvin was at liberty, was almost more than he could stand.

"Snotlout knows," he said abruptly. "Remember what he said to me in Potions? 'If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself…I'd want revenge.'"

"You're going to take Snotlout's advice instead of ours?" Astrid said, looking furious. Ragnar shot her a look, and she took a deep breath. "Listen…you know what Savage's mother got back after Alvin had finished with him? Dad told me—the Order of Haddock, First Class, and Savage's _finger_ in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Alvin's a madman, Hiccup, and he's dangerous—"

"Snotlout's dad must have told him," Hiccup said, ignoring Astrid. "He was right in Drago's inner circle, so obviously the Jorgensons knew Alvin was working for Drago—"

"And Snotlout'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, just like Savage was! Get a grip, Snotlout's hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Dragon Racing."

"Astrid's right, you'll be playing into Alvin's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Alvin!"

"I'll never know what they'd have wanted; thanks to Alvin, I've never spoken to them," Hiccup said shortly.

There was a silence, in which Karita stretched, flexing her claws.

"The only good thing I can think of is that you and I, Rag, are brothers," Hiccup said. Ragnar smiled a little, but said nothing. "I'm not going to go looking for Alvin. But I hope he does find _me_ , because then I'll be ready… then I'm going to kill him."

Astrid and Ragnar looked at each other and knew there was no talking Hiccup out of it.

"Look," Astrid said, obviously casting around for a different subject, "it's the holidays! It's nearly Snoggletog! Let's—let's go down and see Gobber. We haven't visited him for ages!"

"No!" Ragnar said quickly. "Hiccup isn't supposed to leave the mountain, Astrid—"

"Yeah, let's go," Hiccup said, sitting up, "and I can ask him how come he never mentioned Alvin when he told me about my parents and lied that he said he was dead!"

Further discussion of Alvin the Treacherous plainly wasn't what Astrid had had in mind.

"Or we could have a game of chess," she said hastily, "or Gobstones. I think Askeladden left a set—"

"No, let's visit Gobber," Hiccup said firmly.

So they set off through the portrait hole ("Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!" "Oh, shut up"), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.

They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and heel of their boots soaked and freezing. They continued to walk until Gobber's house came into view.

Astrid poked in, but saw nobody.

"He's not out, is he?" Ragnar asked, shivering.

Astrid poked her head in again and listened.

"There's a weird noise," she said. "Listen."

Hiccup and Ragnar listened, too. From inside the workshop came a series of low, throbbing moans.

"Think we'd better go and get someone?" Ragnar asked nervously.

"Gobber!" Hiccup called, thumping the door as hard as he could. "Gobber, are you in there?"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, and then the form of Gobber came into view, his eyes red with what looked like grief.

"Yeh've heard!" he bellowed, and flung himself onto Hiccup's neck.

Gobber being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Hiccup, about to collapse under Gobber's weight, was rescued by Astrid and Ragnar, who each seized Gobber under an arm and heaved him, Hiccup helping, back into the cabin. Gobber allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, he placed a hand on his temple and tears began to drip down his cheeks and onto his rope-like moustache.

"Gobber, what’s the matter?" Ragnar asked, looking alarmed.

Hiccup spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table.

"What's this, Gobber?"

Gobber's sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter towards Hiccup, who picked it up and read aloud:

_Dear Gobber the Belch,_

_Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Whispering Death on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Alvis the Noble that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident._

"Well, that's okay, then, Gobber!" Astrid said, clapping Gobber on the shoulder. But Gobber didn't look as if this was good news.

"Read on," he said, not looking.

_However, we must register our concern about the Whispering Death in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Spitelout the Stern, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures._

_The hearing will take place on April 29th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Whispering Death at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Whispering should be kept tethered and isolated, lest any other unfortunate accidents occur._

_Yours in fellowship…_

There followed a list of the school governors.

"Oh," Astrid said. "But I thought the killing of dragons has been illegal for centuries."

"That's not entirely true," Ragnar said, sitting down in a chair. "If a dragon is proven to be dangerous, then they can be executed."

A sudden sound from the corner of Gobber's workshop made Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar whip around. Groundsplitter was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.

"They won' even let him go on the migration with the other dragons!" Gobber muttered. "He once belonged ter a friend, yeh know, and I promised I’d look after him. Fine job I'm doing, ain't I."

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar looked at each other. Hiccup could tell they were thinking of the same thing; even if Groundsplitter had been once Alvin's, he was a nice enough dragon. It wasn't his fault that he had had an evil, murderous rider.

"You'll have to put up a good strong defense, Gobber," Ragnar said.

"Won' make no diff'rence!" Gobber muttered. "Them Disposal demons, they're all in Spitelout's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Groundsplitter—"

Gobber drew his finger swiftly across his throat.

"What about Alvis, Gobber?" Hiccup said.

"He's done more'n enough fer me already," Gobber groaned. "Got enough on his plate what with keepin' the Dementors outta the fort, and Alvin the Treacherous lurkin' around—"

Astrid and Ragnar looked quickly at Hiccup, as though expecting him to start berating Gobber for not telling him the truth about Alvin. But Hiccup couldn't bring himself to do it, not now that he saw Gobber so miserable.

"Listen, Gobber," he said, "you can't give up. Ragnar's right, you just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses—"

"I'm sure I've read about a case of dragon-baiting," Ragnar said thoughtfully, "where the dragon got off. I'll look it up for you, Gobber, and see exactly what happened."

Hiccup and Ragnar looked at Astrid to help them.

"Uh—should I make a cup of coffee?" Astrid asked awkwardly.

Hiccup stared at her in surprise. Since when did _Astrid_ know how to make coffee?

"It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset," Astrid muttered, shrugging.

At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, Gobber said, "Yer right, I can' give up. Stoick would be shamed if I did…"

Gobber took a sip of coffee and looked at the three of them.

"I've not bin meself lately," Gobber said, placing the mug of coffee on the table. "Bin worried abou' Groundsplitter…and then there are those Dementors. They make me feel terrible," he said, with a sudden shudder. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Green Dragon. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban—"

He fell silent, gulping his coffee. Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar watched him breathlessly. They had never heard Gobber talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before.

After a small pause, Ragnar asked, "Is it awful in there, Gobber?"

"Yeh've no idea," Gobber said quietly. "Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in my mind…the day I got expelled from Berk…day meh Dad died…the day Stoick and Valka were killed…Learning that…that…"

He looked at them and then back at his mug, but they all knew exactly who Gobber was talking about; little baby Raghilda, murdered by her own father. Out of the corner of his eye, Hiccup saw Ragnar suck in a breath and glare at the floor.

"Yeh can't really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can't see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd jus' die in meh sleep…when they let me out, it was like bein' born again, ev'rythin' came floodin' back, it was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the Dementors weren't keen on letting me go."

"But you were innocent!" Ragnar exclaimed.

Gobber snorted.

"Think that matters to them? They’re _demons_ , Ragnar. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don't give a damn who's guilty an' who's not."

Gobber went quiet for a moment, staring at Groundsplitter. Then he said, even quieter, "Thought o' jus' letting Groundsplitter go…tryin' ter make him fly away…but how d'yeh explain ter a dragon it's gotta go inter hidin'? An'—an' I don' really want ter be breakin' the law…" He looked up at them, his eyes tearing up again. "I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."

* * *

The trip to Gobber's, though far from pleasant, had nevertheless had the effect Astrid and Ragnar had hoped for.

Hiccup had by no means forgotten about Alvin, but he couldn't brood constantly on revenge if he wanted to help Gobber win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. He, Astrid and Ragnar went to the library next day, and returned to the empty common room laden with books which might help prepare a defense for Groundsplitter. The three of them sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when they ran across something relevant.

"Here's something… there was a case in 1722… but the Griffin was convicted—urgh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting—"

"This might help, look—a Skrill savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Skrill off—oh—no, wait; that was only because the executioner was too scared to go near it…"

Meanwhile, in the rest of the academy, the usual magnificent Snoggletog decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone inside every stone statue, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Snoggletog trees, all glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Snoggletog Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbard had poked his nose out of the Astrid's satchel to sniff hopefully at the air.

On Snoggletog morning, Hiccup was woken by Ragnar throwing a pillow at him.

"Oi, rise and shine, sleepyhead!"

Hiccup grunted. "Rag, you hate waking up early more than I do."

"Not on Snoggletog I don’t. Now get up! You’ve got presents to open!"

Hiccup squinted through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ragnar was already ripping the paper off his own presents.

"Mum's sent me some sugar-free treats again…"

Hiccup had gotten another jumper from Mrs. Hofferson, this time scarlet with the Gryffindor Monstrous Nightmare on the front, as well as a dozen home-baked minces pies, some Snoggletog cake and a box of nut brittle. As he moved all these things aside, he saw a wide, thick package lying underneath.

"What's that?" Ragnar asked, looking over, an unwrapped forging kit in his lap.

"No idea…"

Hiccup ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming saddle landed onto his bedspread. Ragnar dropped the forge kit and jumped off his bed for a closer look.

"That's not what I think it is…is it?" he asked hoarsely.

It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream saddle Hiccup had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its reins glittered as he picked it up. His eyes moved from the golden registration number on the reins right down to the perfectly smooth leather and the stickers.

Well, _almost_ perfectly smooth. Sewn raggedly into the upper corner was his name, _"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third"_ in emerald thread.

"Who sent it to you?" Ragnar asked in a hushed voice.

Hiccup shrugged. "Look and see if there's a card."

Ragnar ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings.

"Nothing!" he said worriedly, which surprised Hiccup. "Who'd spend that much on you? And who’d take the time to sew your name in?"

"Well," Hiccup said, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dalvors."

Ragnar looked up at Hiccup and said, flatly, "Let's tell Astrid."

"Tell me what?"

Astrid had just come in, already dressed but with her hair still unbraided. Her mouth fell open at the sight of the Firebolt.

"Oh, _Hiccup_ ! Who sent you _that_?"

"No idea," Hiccup said. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."

"I bet it was Alvis," Astrid said, now walking round and round the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. "He sent you the Invisibility Cape anonymously…"

"That was my dad's, though," Hiccup said, frowning. "Alvis was just passing it on to me."

"Besides, he wouldn’t spend hundreds of Galleons on Hiccup. He can't go around showing favoritism like this. And incidentally, how much does that thing cost?"

"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' saddles put together," Astrid said happily, running her finger along the letters of his name.

"Then…who'd send Hiccup something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" Ragnar said.

"Who cares?" Astrid said, smiling so brightly you’d think _she_ was the one who had been gifted the saddle. "I just want to see _Snotlout's_ face when he sees Hiccup on this! He'll fall off his dragon! This is an _international_ standard saddle!"

"Which bring me back to the point of _who_ —"

"I know," Astrid said suddenly. "I know who it could've been—Johann!"

"What?" Hiccup and Ragnar exclaimed together.

" _Johann_?" Hiccup said, laughing. "Astrid, if he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new clothes."

"Yeah, but he likes you," Astrid insisted. "And he was away when your saddle got smashed, so he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you—"

"What d'you mean, "He was away"?" Hiccup asked. "He was ill when I was playing in that match."

"Well, he wasn't in the Infirmary," Astrid said. "I was there cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Asketill, remember?"

Hiccup frowned at Astrid. Ragnar, on the other hand, was staring at the Firebolt as if it was bomb ready to go off.

"I still can't see Johann affording something like this," Hiccup said and looked at Ragnar. "What do you think, Rag?"

Ragnar then turned his gaze from the Firebolt to Hiccup and Astrid. "Well, I have a few ideas, but I don't like to say…"

He got up and was in such a rush that he banged into Hiccup’s trunk, knocking it over. A shrill, tinny whistling filled the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Björn’s old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor. Karita leaped down and snagged it. It fought against her, but the pup held fast.

"I forgot about that!" Hiccup said, bending down to take the whirling and whistling Sneakoscope out of Karita’s mouth.

He then stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it into his trunk. Karita started growling, slinking back behind Hiccup’s leg.

Scabbard had come out of Astrid’s satchel.

It had been a while since Hiccup had seen him, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbard, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out, too. He couldn’t blame Karita for growling; it didn’t even look like the same rat.

"He's not looking too good, is he?" Hiccup asked, giving Karita a reassuring pat on the head.

"It's stress!" Astrid said. "At least that lump of scales isn't around to bother him over the holidays."

"Oh, come on…" Ragnar muttered, crossing his arms, "Blaming Amber when she's not even on the island."

But Hiccup, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats only living three years, couldn't help but feel that unless Scabbard had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life. And despite Astrid's frequent complaints that Scabbard was boring and useless, he was sure she would be very miserable indeed if Scabbard died.

Snoggletog spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Ragnar was studying his forge kit with great interest, but was furious with Astrid for blaming Amber for Scabbard’s stress when said dragon wasn't even on the island; Astrid was still fuming about Ragnar’s dismissal of Amber trying to eat Scabbard. Hiccup gave up trying to make them talk to each other, and devoted himself to either playing with Karita or examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down to the common room with him. For some reason this seemed to annoy Ragnar as well; he didn't say anything, but he kept giving the saddle dark looks, as though it too had been criticizing his Terrible Terror.

At lunchtime they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the house tables had been moved against the wall again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Alvis, Phlegma, Asketill, Eydis and Alvar were there, along with Mildew, the caretaker, and three other students: two extremely nervous-looking first-years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth-year.

"Merry Snoggletog," Alvis greeted as Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables…sit down, sit down."

Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar sat down side by side at the end of the table.

"Ah, let us test these crackers!" Alvis said with the enthusiasm of a small child, offering the end of a large silver one to Asketill, who reluctantly took it and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal an old, rusty Viking helmet with large ram horns.

Hiccup remembered the Boggart, caught Astrid's eye and they both grinned; Asketill’s mouth thinned and he pushed the helmet towards Alvis, who swapped it for his normal helmet at once.

"Tuck in!" he advised the table, beaming around.

As Hiccup was helping himself to some roast potatoes, the doors of the side entrance opened again. It was Gothi, hobbling her way in.

"Gothi, this is a pleasant surprise!" Alvis said, standing up.

"I had a vision, Headmaster," Gothi said in her mistiest voice. "I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of the Norns? I at once hastened from my hut on the mountain peak, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…"

"Certainly, certainly," Alvis said, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair—"

And he did indeed draw a chair in mid-air with his axe prosthetic, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Asketill and Phlegma.

Gothi, however, did not sit down. Her eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly looked very worried.

"Oh, I dare not, Headmaster! You see, I also came to warn you that one of the people present in this fort will be attacked tonight. And now I realize why, because if I sit with you, we shall be thirteen! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise shall be the first to die!"

Ragnar scoffed, and made little effort to hide it.

"We'll risk it, Gothi," Phlegma said impatiently. "Do sit down; the boar is getting cold."

Gothi hesitated, and then lowered herself into the empty chair. Once she sat herself down, she looked around and said, "I see Johann is unable to join us."

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Alvis said, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Snoggletog."

"Ah, of course," Gothi said in an understanding tone.

"I doubt that Johann is in any immediate danger," Alvis went on, helping himself to a piece of boar. "Asketill, you've made the Potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Asketill said stiffly.

"Excellent," Alvis said. "Then he should be up and about in no time…Dale, have you had any of those chipolatas? They're quite excellent."

The first year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Alvis, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Two hours later, full to bursting with Snoggletog dinner and still wearing their cracker helmets, Hiccup and Astrid got up first from the table. Gothi gasped.

"My dears, my poor, poor dears, this is horrible! Which of you left your seat first?!"

"Uh, no idea," Astrid said, looking at Hiccup uneasily.

"I doubt it will make much difference," Phlegma said coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."  

Even Astrid laughed. Gothi, meanwhile, looked highly affronted. "Doubt if you wish, dear Phlegma, but I sense you shall soon eat those words."

"I’m sure I will," Phlegma said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Are you coming?" Hiccup asked Ragnar.

"No," Ragnar muttered, not meeting his eye. "I…I want a quick word with Phlegma."

"Probably trying to see if he can take some more classes," Astrid yawned as they made their way into the Entrance Hall, which was completely devoid of mad axe-men.

When they reached the portrait hole they found Cadogan enjoying a Snoggletog party with several pretty shield maidens, which annoyed Astrid to no end. Valhallarama the Dependable sat off to the side with her face buried into her knees, likely wishing she could disappear.

Cadogan pushed up his lopsided helmet and toasted them with a flagon of mead.

"Merry— _hic_ —Snoggletog! Password?"

"Chieftain Chief," Astrid said, gritting her teeth.

"And the same to you, milady," Cadogan said, bowing (and stumbling) as the painting swung forward to admit them.

"Ugh, if he wasn’t a portrait I’d—Oh gods!"

The Gryffindor common room was a mess. Feathers, torn furs and leathers, ripped papers and other debris littered the floor. Ragnar’s books were scattered all around, the tables flipped over. The fireplace looked as though someone had attempted to douse the flames, but not quite succeeded; only half of it had gone out.

But that clearly wasn’t what had caught Astrid’s attention. She was staring, wide-eyed, openmouthed, at something next to the fireplace…something that looked distinctly humanoid in shape…

There was a body on the floor.

* * *

**And suddenly I'm writing a murder-mystery.**

**Nah I'm kidding, they're OK. Sort of.**

**Who's the person? I'm sure you already know.**

**Highlight of chapter: The ending.**

**Please send suggestions for next chapter—I'm in the process of re-writing it again.**

**I'm gonna go curl up in bed and try to get some sleep. You guys have a great week.**


	12. Raghilda

**Gods this was hard. I think this chapter was actually fighting me the entire time I was trying to write it.**

* * *

_Chapter Twelve: Raghilda_

* * *

It was a girl, lying facedown on the ground, and if it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of her back, Hiccup might have thought she was dead.

"Son of a half troll," Astrid breathed. "What _happened_ here?"

The girl, who wore a tattered brown dress and no shoes, let out a soft, painful moan. Gothi’s words echoed tauntingly in Hiccup’s head.

_One of the people present in this fort will be attacked this night…_

"Gothi was right," he muttered, earning a confused, slightly startled look from Astrid.

"What?"

"She said someone in the fort would be attacked, didn’t she?"

Astrid’s eyes widened.

"What should we do?"

The girl moaned again, even louder.

_"Medical attention,"_ Hiccup thought, _"she needs medical attention."_

"Go and find Bergljot," he said. "Alvis too, if you can. I’ll stay and keep an eye on her."

He half-expected Astrid to protest, but she nodded and spun on her heel, hurrying out of the portrait hole as fast as she could.

Hiccup ran up to his dormitory. He grabbed the silver pitcher of water that was next to his bed, before rushing back down to the common room. As he reached the bottom of the steps, he saw that the girl had begun to try and get up, balancing herself precariously on her hands and knees.

" _Merde_ …" she panted.

"It’s alright," Hiccup called gently. "You’re safe—"

The girl’s head snapped upward, revealing a gaunt, heart-shaped face with a thick stream of blood running down the center of it. Her eyes met Hiccup’s, and he almost fell over when he saw them, for they were a very familiar molten gold.

It was the girl he had been dreaming of.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed, her voice raspier than Hiccup remembered. "Fuck fuck _fuck_!"

Startled, Hiccup took a step back. Whatever reaction he might have expected, it most certainly wasn’t that.

The girl tried to stand, but didn’t seem to have the strength. She collapsed, her breathing harsh and labored. "Oh…my…"

Hiccup placed the pitcher on the ground and went to help the girl up.

"It’s OK," he said in what he hoped was a comforting voice, "I’m not going to hurt you."

He supported her over to the couch and had her lie down. She obeyed without another word, staring up at him with a strange look in her eyes.

"What happened to you?" Hiccup asked.

"I was attacked. I…I don’t know how long ago."

"Who was it?"

She didn’t answer.

"Does anywhere other than your head hurt?"

"My…My throat. I think they tried to strangle me, but…but didn’t hold on long enough."

"Did you see who it was?"

Again, she didn’t answer.

"I’ll take that as a no."

The portrait hole opened again. Astrid had returned, dragging Alvis the Noble behind her. Following after them was Bergljot, who looked as though she had been very roughly roused from her bed.

"See, sir?" Astrid said, gesturing to the girl. "Just like Elder Gothi said."

"Sweet baby Thor," Bergljot breathed, clamping her hands over her mouth.

Alvis moved past her. He was peering intently at the girl’s face.

"Hello Alvis," the girl said, before she was overcome with a violent cough. Hiccup pounded her on the back until she stopped.

"Hello," Alvis said. "Are you who I think you are?"

"That…that would depend on who you think I am," the girl croaked, taking several deep breaths.

Bergljot stepped forward. "Headmaster, she should really be taken to the Infirmary—"

"I think you are Raghilda Harkstow. Am I wrong?"

The room fell silent.

"No," the girl said quietly. "No, you are not."

* * *

Hiccup and Astrid’s minds had gone blank with shock.

They sat side-by-side on the floor of the Headmaster’s home. The girl who claimed to be Ragnar’s sister was upstairs, being tended to by Bergljot and questioned by Alvis.

"She can’t be Raghilda…can she?" Astrid said at last.

Hiccup shook his head. No, she couldn’t be. It was preposterous, absolutely insane. There was no way Raghilda could still be alive! Alvin had killed her!

He aired these thoughts to Astrid, who frowned suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Well…" She looked around, and lowered her voice to a mutter. "Remember what Fudge said? They _never found her body_. And if Alvin had her in his arms when he cast the spell…she wouldn’t have been within the range of the blast. It would’ve gone outwards, not backwards."

She had a point there. But how could Raghilda have lived this long?

The door opened, and Elder Gothi entered, followed by Ragnar and Phlegma the Fierce.

"Where is she?" Gothi asked Hiccup and Astrid, who both silently pointed upward. The old woman hobbled up the stairs with a surprising amount of speed.

"Who was she talking about?" Ragnar asked.

Hiccup blinked. "You don’t know?"

Ragnar shook his head, looking confused. "She came up to us and said to follow her. She wouldn’t tell us why."

Hiccup exchanged an uncertain look with Astrid. Neither of them wanted to be the one to tell Ragnar that the girl upstairs might ( _might_ ) be his twin sister.

At that moment, Headmaster Alvis reappeared, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Ah," he said when he spotted Ragnar. "Mr. Wicket. Please come up here; there is something you should know."

Ragnar looked more confused than ever.

"Sir," Astrid said, standing up and shooting Ragnar a sympathetic look, "may Hiccup and I go up with him?"

"Of course, of course…"

The three friends went upstairs, Ragnar first, Hiccup and Astrid right behind him.

"Headmaster Alvis, what’s going on?" Ragnar asked when they reached the top.

"There is no easy way to say this, Ragnar," Alvis said gently. "But you deserve to know. You have always deserved to know."

"Headmaster…" There was a note of warning in Phlegma’s voice.

"You are the son of Alvin the Treacherous. You are also the twin brother of Raghilda Harkstow."

Ragnar did a good job of looking shocked by the news. "You mean…you mean the guy who killed fourteen people with one curse? _He’s_ my dad?"

"He did not kill fourteen," Alvis said. "That is why I am telling you this now, when your mother wished that we wait until you came of age. Alvin did not kill your sister."

"He didn’t?" Ragnar looked confused again. "Then how did she…?"

"She is alive, Ragnar. Severely underweight, and currently being looked over by Bergljot, but very much alive."

"Alvis!" Phlegma exclaimed. "That cannot be possible!"

"She has the mark, Phlegma. Gothi verified it herself. And you know as well as I do that no one but Raghilda has been born with that mark in over half a century."

Alvis gestured to the door. "You may see her, if you like."

Ragnar stared at the door handle with wide, unseeing eyes. He was taking it even worse that Hiccup had thought he would.

The door opened again, and Bergljot stepped out.

"Nothing else seems to be wrong with her," she told Alvis, shutting the door behind her. "Just the head injury and the issue with her weight. Other than that, she’s surprisingly healthy."

"Very good," Alvis said.

"I’ll still want to keep an eye on her, mind. Whoever attacked her was going for the kill; it's a miracle she can even talk right now."

"Indeed. I shall bring her over to the Infirmary in half an hour’s time."

"Good. That ought to give me enough time to get something for her to eat—I swear, Alvis, I have seen _broomsticks_ with more meat on them than that girl has on her bones."

She rubbed at her eyes and hurried down the stairs and out of sight.

"Attacked?" Ragnar said; Hiccup was willing to bet that that was the only word that had registered. "What did she mean by, "Attacked"?"

"Raghilda was attacked this evening. She does not know who did it, but she is certain that they meant to kill her."

"Hiccup and I found her," Astrid blurted out. "I thought she _was_ dead until she started making noises. She was so _small_."

Ragnar didn’t seem to have heard her.

Phlegma came forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is too much too fast, Alvis. I don’t think Ragnar’s quite ready to see Raghilda. I’ll take him back to his dormitory. He can see her in the morning."

"It is your call, Phlegma," Alvis said. "But be warned—the common room is in need of repair. Whoever attacked Raghilda made quite the mess."

"I’ll see to it straight away. Come along, Ragnar."

And she guided the poor guy away.

Alvis turned to Hiccup and Astrid. "Would you two like to see her, then?"

"Yes sir," they said, in near-perfect unison.

Alvis smiled and let them in.

Raghilda was sitting upright in a hospital bed, her eyes closed, supported by several pillows. She was wearing a pair of Infirmary pajamas, which hung very loosely off of her body. Gothi stood at her left side, holding her hand and murmuring something to her.

"Raghilda," Alvis called quietly.

The girl’s eyes fluttered open. "Couldn’t handle the news, I take it?"

Alvis shook his head, and she sighed.

"Hiccup and Astrid here would like to speak with you, my dear. I must go and alert your mother."

"Fudge too, I imagine."

"Yes," Alvis said. "The Chief as well."

He nodded to Elder Gothi and left.

Raghilda sighed again. "That’ll be a fun conversation."

"Oh, I don’t know," Gothi said. "It’ll be a bit amusing to see his face."

Raghilda’s lips curled into a small smile. "Fair point."

Astrid cleared her throat, and Raghilda looked at her.

"Yes, Astrid?"

"How did you get into the fort?"

Raghilda looked at Hiccup, then back at Astrid. "Hiccup got me here."

"What?"

" _What?_ "

"Not intentionally, of course," Raghilda amended.

"Then how…" Astrid’s eyes widened. "Wait…"

"Smart girl."

Hiccup frowned. "Did I miss something…?"

Raghilda looked back at him. "Where’s Karita?"

"That is not an answer to my question."

"Where is she, Hiccup? You haven’t seen her since this morning. She was nowhere to be seen when you entered the common room, nor was she in your dormitory. Don’t you find that just a little bit odd?"

Hiccup stared at her, dumbstruck. "What-what do you…?"

"There _was_ no Karita, Hiccup. She never existed. It was always just me," Raghilda said.

Hiccup felt more confused than ever. "That—that…"

"Can't be true?" Raghilda finished for him. "Yes, I imagine you'd like some evidence. Luckily enough, I happen to have it. The day you found me, there was a bit of parchment on the welcome mat, remember? Scribbled onto it in big letters were the words, "Take care of her, lad. It's all I ask of you." You started to question it, but your awful relatives got up from the table, so you carried me upstairs to your room, and we stayed up there until early next morning."

Hiccup's eyes widened. "I…I never told anyone what that note said."

Truth be told, he had almost _forgotten_ the note after having Karita for a few days. He hadn't cared who had given him the tiny pup; with Aunt Olga around and being stuck without his dragons, he'd just been grateful to have some company that didn't hate his guts, even if said company couldn't say anything.

The fact that she was unable to communicate had never mattered to Hiccup, though; Karita had seemed far more intelligent than most dogs. He'd even gotten the impression that she understood what he said to her.

And now he knew why.

Raghilda nodded as though she had expected his answer. "And why would you? To you, it probably didn't seem very important. But I knew those words by heart. I kept repeating them as I approached the door. I knocked as hard as I could, and I shifted into my animal form right before you appeared."

Gothi smiled. "An Animagus at only fourteen years old."

"Thirteen, actually. That’s how old I was when I pulled it off for the first time. Took two years, but it was worth it." She shot Hiccup a wry smile. "I’d show you, but somehow I don’t think that’s a very good idea at the moment, head injury and all."

Astrid spoke next into the stunned silence that followed. "But…why did you hide with Hiccup? Why wouldn't you find someone who knew who you really were?"

Raghilda raised an eyebrow. "Astrid, the entire Viking world thinks that I've been dead for the last twelve years. I’ve only revealed myself to one person, and that was only so that I could help them. I don’t think they believe me, either. Where exactly would I find someone who would have taken me in?"

She had a point there, but Hiccup had a feeling there was a reason she wasn't telling them.

"Elder Gothi, do you know what Bergljot did with my dress?" Raghilda asked, apparently done with the discussion.

"She threw it out," Gothi replied.

"Why would she do that? I could’ve just sewn it back together."

"I think it was more holes than dress by this point, dear. Tell you what, I’ll go out and get some fabric, and you can make a new dress once Bergljot lets you out of the Infirmary. Sound good?"

Raghilda nodded. "Thank you, Elder Gothi."

"Goodness, it's getting late." The old woman stretched. "You’ll be taken to the Infirmary soon. Bergljot will give you something to eat, and then I suggest you go straight to bed."

"Yes ma’am."

"What color would you like?"

"Grey would be fine, ma’am."

"Grey it is, then."

She looked at Hiccup and Astrid. "I’ll take you two back to your dormitories. You can visit her in the morning, when her brother is supposed to. Unless you have anything left to say…?"

Astrid shook her head, but Hiccup found himself looking back at Raghilda, who offered him a small smile.

"Sorry I caused such a fuss."

"You didn’t," Hiccup managed to say. "See you in the morning, then?"

"See you in the morning. Good night, both of you."

* * *

**Yay...**

**Highlight of chapter: "That is not an answer to my question."**

**(Also Raghilda in general, because she's my baby and I love her)**

**I'm going to bed. See you guys next Monday.**


	13. The Midgard Blade

**So a piece of deck furniture got blown into the pool tonight. I'm not kidding.**

**On with the chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen: The Midgard Blade_

* * *

Two days later, Bergljot allowed Raghilda to leave the Infirmary. The girl had been given strict instructions to get a lot of rest and eat second helpings at every meal until she had reached a healthy weight. She had also been given a potion that she needed to take a swig from every morning, which was apparently supposed to lessen the pain from the headaches Raghilda had suffered all her life.

"They’re from the visions," she had explained. "They don’t really hurt—at least, not as much as they used to—but Bergljot caught me wincing and insisted I take the potion." She’d lowered her voice and added, "Not that it actually does anything."

Ragnar had not visited his twin in the Infirmary. In fact, he seemed keen on avoiding her altogether. He pointedly ignored her if she spoke to him, sometimes going so far as to get up and leave if she didn’t stop trying. Most people probably would have been upset by this, but Raghilda didn’t appear to be one for strong displays of emotion.

But then, she didn’t really _need_ to be upset with Ragnar. Hiccup and Astrid were already furious with him.

On his way back to Gryffindor tower, Ragnar had managed to remind Phlegma of why he had wanted a word with her in the first place. Apparently, he was concerned that Hiccup’s Firebolt (and his forging kit) had been sent to them by none other than Alvin the Treacherous. Hiccup thought that sounded utterly ridiculous, but Phlegma hadn’t seen it that way. He and Astrid had returned to find the common room cleaned up and the Firebolt gone. In its place had been a note explaining why it had been taken, and that Hiccup could have it back once they were sure it was not cursed.

Astrid had then proceeded to toss a book at Ragnar’s head (she missed, but only by a little) and yell at him for nearly an hour. Hiccup hadn’t even tried to stop her.

He knew that Ragnar had meant well, but that didn't stop him from being mad. He had been the owner of the best saddle in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of Ragnar’s interference, he didn't know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests?

Astrid was even more angry than he was. As far as she was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage.

Ragnar remained convinced that he had done the right thing, but he soon began avoiding them just as much as he avoided Raghilda, and whenever Hiccup went into their dormitory, he pretended to be asleep. Hiccup, Astrid and Raghilda all supposed he had taken refuge in the library, and only Raghilda tried to persuade him into coming back (three guesses how that turned out). All in all, Hiccup and Astrid were glad when the rest of the academy, both students and dragons, returned shortly after New Year, and the Gryffindor Common Room became crowded and noisy again.

Raghilda, however, wasn’t exactly pleased about it. Large groups of people made her uncomfortable. Her wincing became near-constant, making her look as though she had a tick in her eye. Before long, she had sought refuge with Elder Gothi, who had gone to Alvis expressing her concerns.

"She needs a space of her own, Headmaster," Hiccup had heard her say. "So many visions all at once…the poor dear can’t stand it. And I fear her core magic is unstable; she has no control over it…"

Alvis had agreed. Regardless of whatever house she was sorted into, Raghilda would be staying in a separate dormitory. Alvis had personally asked Astrid to stay there with her, and Astrid, still angry with Ragnar, had almost immediately said yes.

Eret sought Hiccup out the night before term started, which was when Raghilda was to be sorted. Raghilda herself was not there; she was hiding in her dormitory.

"Did you have a good Snoggletog, Hiccup?" Eret asked. Without bothering to wait for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice and said, "Listen, Hiccup, I've been doing some thinking over Snoggletog. After last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one…I mean…we can't afford for you to— _well_ —"

Eret broke off, looking awkward.

"I'm working on it, Eret," Hiccup said quickly. "Johann the Wanderer said he'd train me to ward off the Dementors. We should be starting this week; he said he'd have some time after Snoggletog."

"Ah," Eret said, his expression clearing a bit. "Well, in that case—I really don’t want to lose you as Seeker, Hiccup. And have you ordered a new saddle and gotten a new dragon yet?"

"No," Hiccup said.

"What?! You'd best get a move on, you know—you can't ride Astrid's Deadly Nadder against Ravenclaw, you just can’t bond with it proper, and riding a dragon with that old Shooting Star—"

"Relax, Eret," Hiccup said, pulling a piece of parchment out of his vest pocket and laying it flat on a table. Etched on the parchment was an image of a prosthetic tailfin. "I've already got an idea. I just have to make this prosthetic tailfin, and Toothless can fly again. The only downside is that I'll have to operate the tailfin as we fly, which might slow us down a bit."

Eret studied the blueprint, and then looked back to Hiccup. "You’re welcome to try, but if that doesn’t work you'll have to get a new dragon. And you still need a new saddle."

"He got a Firebolt for Snoggletog," Astrid said, looking as though she’d been bursting to say this for the entire conversation.

Eret’s jaw nearly hit the floor. "A _Firebolt_ ?! Seriously?! A-a real _Firebolt_?"

"Don't get excited just yet, Eret," Hiccup said gloomily. "I haven't got it any more. It was confiscated." And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for curses.

"Cursed? How could it possibly be _cursed_?"

"Alvin the Treacherous," Hiccup said wearily. "He's supposed to be after me, so Phlegma reckons he might have sent it."

Eret waved aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker and said, "But Alvin couldn't have bought a Firebolt! He's on the run! The entire country's on the lookout for him, even the muggles! How could he just walk into Dazzling Dragon Racing Supplies and buy a saddle?"

"And if I was Alvin, I'd send you a saddle that would cost a lot less than a Firebolt," Astrid added.

"I know, I know," Hiccup said, "but Phlegma still wants to strip it down, just in case—"

Eret looked as though he might faint.

"I'll go and talk to her, Hiccup," he promised. "I'll make her see reason… a Firebolt…a real Firebolt, on our team…she wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do…I'll make her see sense…a _Firebolt_ …"

He then got up and all but flew out of portrait hole.

"At least he took it well," Astrid said. "Come on, we’d better get to dinner…"

* * *

This was a very bad idea.

Raghilda had told Alvis that she didn’t want a public sorting. She wanted to do it in private, and simply slip into the house the helmet chose. Alvis said no. He wanted the whole school to know she was there, as if there was anyone who hadn’t heard about it once the information got to Fudge the Mighty.

So here she was, pacing back and forth in front of the Great Hall.

_The entire academy is right behind those doors._

Raghilda had never been around so many people before. She could sense their emotions clearly; there was some excitement, and a bit of sulleness (she had a sneaking suspicion who that was coming from), but mostly she could sense curiosity. Curiosity about _her_. A trickle of fear crept down her spine.

_Stop it. You are_ **_fine_** _._

The sharp, but normally brief pain that came from her visions had become unbearable. There were so many people around her, so many different fates, each pushing their way into her skull and banging against it, trying to get her attention. It was all she could do to keep her expression neutral.

_You won’t have to stay long. Just get through the sorting and find a way out._

"Raghilda?"

"Yes, Elder Gothi?"

The older Völva had come to watch Raghilda be sorted. At least, that was her excuse. She was mostly there as moral support.

"Are you alright?"

As was always the case, Raghilda was unable to lie. "…No ma’am."

"I figured." She slammed her staff on the ground repeatedly, in a strange kind of pattern that Raghilda didn’t recognize.

"What are you doing?" Raghilda asked, casting a wary glance at the Great Hall’s doors. Was this how Berk began their sortings? Banging a pattern into the ground?

Elder Gothi lifted her staff into the air and pointed it towards one of the portraits on the wall, which swung open to reveal…

Raghilda’s breath caught. "Oh, Elder _Gothi_."

A Terrible Terror came flying out. It made a beeline towards Raghilda, flying around her a few times before landing at her feet.

"She just hatched last year," Elder Gothi said with a smile. "I thought you might like her."

Raghilda scooped the dragon into her arms. It was slightly smaller than most Terrible Terrors, with amethyst colored scales and matching eyes.

"She’s perfect," Raghilda breathed. It took her a moment to get a hold of her emotions. "Thank you, Elder Gothi."

Alvis’s voice filled the hall behind her. "Before we begin tonight’s feast…"

_Oh fuck_.

Raghilda’s heart began hammering against her chest. She stood in front of the Great Hall doors, fighting down the urge to turn around and run back to her dormitory.

"There is something we must address."

Elder Gothi reached out and grabbed Raghilda’s hand.

"I am sure that you all have heard the news—Raghilda Harkstow is alive."

The Great Hall exploded with noise. Raghilda took an instinctive step back.

Alvis waited for silence to fall again. "Yes, it is true. She was discovered by two students over Snoggletog break, alive and in good health."

_Good isn’t exactly the word I would use._

"She will begin attending the academy tomorrow morning, as a third year student. For her own safety, she will be placed in a separate dormitory until further notice. And now, she must be sorted."

The doors swung forward, though no one was there to open them, and Raghilda stepped through, revealing herself to the rest of the Academy.

Stunned silence greeted her. The thick grey wool she had used to make her dress did not hide how thin she was, nor did the green shawl she had pinned around her shoulders; the firelight didn’t disguise the fact that her face was gaunt, or that her skin more resembled bone than flesh; and even Aunt Phlegma’s best attempts hadn’t managed to tame her tangled, dirty hair.

She forced herself to stare straight ahead as she walked towards the other end of the room. Asketill was glaring at her; everyone else had the same reaction as the students. Her Aunt Phlegma placed a four legged stool next to Alvis, who was holding the sorting helmet of Valhallarama.

"Miss Harkstow," Alvis said, nodding to her when she reached him.

"Alvis," she replied. She released Elder Gothi’s hand, turned to face the students and sat down on the stool, stiff as a board. Alvis smiled, then placed the helmet on her head. It promptly slid over her eyes, but she didn’t dare reach up to fix it.

_"You’re late,"_ a small voice said in her ear.

_Not by choice_.

_"Fair. Let’s see now…Hm…you’re cunning…a workaholic…_ **_Incredibly_ ** _patient, goodness…but where to put you?"_

Raghilda gripped the edges of the stool. _Not Slytherin. Please, please,_ **_please_ ** _not Slytherin. I can’t be like my father’s clan_.

_"You aren’t,"_ the voice replied. _"But if you need any proof…oh yes…yes, I think you’ll make your father very proud in…_ GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted to the entire hall. There was no celebration, as she knew there would normally be. Raghilda took off the helmet to the same silence as before.

Slytherin table looked surprised. Actually, all of the tables looked surprised. No one had expected her to be sorted into the house of the chivalrous and brave.

_Like father, like daughter_.

Godsdamn it, she had _told_ Alvis this would happen. Why hadn’t he listened to her?

Oh yeah. Because she was fourteen years old and a Völva.

Raghilda glanced to Gryffindor table and located Fishlegs. Her first friend was sitting next to…her brother.

_Well, there went that plan._

Her eyes traveled further up the table. People began shifting, so that they wouldn’t have to be seated next to the daughter of Alvin.

Then her eyes caught on Hiccup’s. The Boy Who Lived smiled at her, then half-rose out of his seat, indicating the empty spot next to him.

The spot that was normally occupied by her brother.

_I might as well punch him in the face while I’m at it_.

But it was the only available seat, so she took it.

"That is all," Alvis said, as the helmet and stool were taken away. "Enjoy the feast."

Slowly but surely the room relaxed. People began acting like nothing had happened.

Raghilda put her head down on the table. She would not be making a habit of eating in the Great Hall; her head wouldn’t be able to take it.

"Are you OK?"

Raghilda looked up. Hiccup was staring at her, a look of concern on his face.

She didn’t answer his question. "Thank you."

He grinned, giving her Terrible Terror some of his Icelandic Cod (which she knew very well was his favorite). "No problem."

* * *

Lessons started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending time in the village on a raw January morning, but Gobber’s workshop was nice and warm. Gobber had informed them that he expected them to work on their projects now, and Hiccup was eager to start right away.

He wasn’t as thrilled with the first Soothsaying lesson of the new term; Gothi was now teaching them omens, including, to Hiccup's discomfort, the Signpost of Valhalla. Raghilda had indeed joined the class, and to the frustration of Ragnar, Maria and Agatha, she almost instantly became Gothi’s star pupil. It was difficult to beat a Völva in their own domain, after all. She’d even told Hiccup that the older woman was going to be giving her private lessons soon, to better prepare her for being a proper Völva.

"It’s a hard job," she’d admitted. "But I think I can handle it."

It was Combat Arts that Hiccup was keen to get to; after his conversation with Eret, he wanted to get started on his Anti-Dementor lessons as soon as possible.

"Ah, yes," Johann said, when Hiccup reminded him of his promise at the end of class. "Let me see…how about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough…I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this…we can't bring a real Dementor into the fort to practice on…"

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" Astrid mused, as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner.

Raghilda nodded, readjusting her shawl. "I noticed that too. What do you think is the matter with him?"

"I would have thought it was _obvious,"_ a voice behind them called.

They looked around and saw Ragnar sitting on a bench, repacking his satchel, which was so full of books that it wouldn't close.

Raghilda raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you’re actually talking to me now? It’s a fucking miracle."

Astrid snickered.

"What do you mean, Ragnar?" Hiccup asked, choosing to act as though the girls hadn’t made a sound.

Ragnar just rolled his eyes as he heaved his satchel back over his shoulder.

"Are you going to tell us or not?" Astrid snapped.

"No, I'll let you figure it out," Ragnar said, and he marched off.

"Well that was pleasant," Raghilda deadpanned.

"He doesn't know," Astrid said, staring resentfully after Ragnar. "He's just trying to get us to talk to him again…"

"I don't know," Hiccup said, watching as Ragnar entered the mountain. "He's never been one to lie about something without good reason."

"There’s a good reason to lie?" Raghilda asked, the barest hint of curiosity in her voice.

"Come on, Hiccup," Astrid said. "He took your Firebolt away from you, remember? Why on Midgard are you _defending_ him?"

* * *

At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Hiccup left the Gryffindor Common Room for the History of Magic classroom. Raghilda had asked to accompany him, and he hadn’t seen why not.

It was dark and empty when they arrived, but Hiccup lit the lamps with some Fire Magic. They had only been waiting for five minutes when Johann turned up, carrying a large packing case, which Hiccup and Raghilda helped him heave onto Bruadar the Sleep-inducing's desk.

"What's that?" Hiccup asked.

"Another Boggart," Johann said, panting a bit. "I've been combing the fort ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found one lurking inside Mildew the Unpleasant's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my house when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."

"Okay," Hiccup said, trying to sound as though he wasn't apprehensive at all and merely glad that Johann had found such a good substitute for a real Dementor.

"So…" Johann said, taking out his dagger and indicating that Hiccup should pull out his sword. "The Magic I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced, Hiccup—well beyond Viking Average Level. It is called the Midgard Blade."

"How does it work?" Hiccup asked nervously.

Raghilda answered. "When performed correctly, the Midgard Blade conjures a solid bright light. I suppose you could think of it as an Anti-Dementor—a guardian which takes the form of a creature that you have a strong emotional attachment to. It will act as both a shield and  a sword when you face demon-like creatures such as Dementors."

Hiccup had a sudden vision of himself crouching behind a Gobber-sized figure holding a large club.

Johann gave Raghilda a surprised look. "How did you know that?"

"I grew up around Dementors, remember? My father taught me all about them."

Johann looked uneasy, but continued, "The Midgard Blade is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very thing that demons feed upon— hope, happiness, the desire to survive and so on— but unlike us humans it cannot feel despair, so demons can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Hiccup; the Midgard Blade might be too advanced for you. Many qualified Vikings still have difficulty with it."

"What does the Midgard Blade look like?" Hiccup asked curiously.

"Each one is unique to the Viking or Valkyrie who conjures it."

"And how _do_ you conjure it?"

"With a very strong heart and will, but you will also have to concentrate, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

Hiccup searched his mind for a happy memory. Certainly, nothing that had happened to him at the Dalvors was going to do. Finally, he settled on the moment when he had first ridden on Toothless.

"Right," he said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation in his stomach.

"Now concentrate as hard as you can on your happy memory, and let it flow into every point in your body."

"Right," Hiccup said again, quickly forcing his thoughts back onto that first dragon ride.

Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his sword; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.

"Did you see that?" Hiccup asked the other two, feeling excited. "Something happened!"

The pair smiled at him.

"Very good," Johann praised. "Right then—ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yes," Hiccup said, gripping his sword tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding…any second now, he might hear his mother again…but he shouldn't think that, or he _would_ hear her again, and he didn't want that…right?

Johann grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned towards Hiccup, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently towards him, drawing a deep, rattling breath. Raghilda yelped, and a wave of piercing cold broke over Hiccup—

He tried to concentrated, but the classroom and the Dementor were dissolving…Hiccup was falling again through thick white fog, and his mother's voice was louder than ever, echoing inside his head— _"Not Hiccup! Not Hiccup!"_

_"Stand aside—stand aside, woman—"_

"Hiccup?"

Hiccup jerked back to life. The classroom lamps were alight again. He was lying flat on his back on the floor, Raghilda hovering above him, her face unreadable but her concern apparent.

He didn't have to ask what had happened.

"Sorry," he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down his skin.

"Nothing to say sorry for," Raghilda told him firmly.

"Are you alright?" Johann asked.

"Yes…" Hiccup pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it for support.

"Here—" Johann handed him a Chocolate Fireworm. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it first time. In fact, I would have been astounded if you had."

"It's getting worse," Hiccup muttered, biting the Fireworm's head off savagely. "I could hear her louder that time—and him—Drago—"

Johann looked paler than usual. He almost made Raghilda look tan.

"Hiccup, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand—"

"I do!" Hiccup said fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Fireworm into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game, we've lost the Dragon Racing Cup!"

Johann looked at him and chuckled weakly. "You're just as stubborn as your father."

Hiccup and Raghilda stared at him, but before they could say anything, Johann went on, "You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on…that one doesn't seem to have been strong enough…"

Hiccup thought hard, and decided his feeling when Gryffindor had won the House Championship almost two years ago had definitely qualified as very happy. He gripped his sword tightly again, and took up his position in the middle of the classroom.

"Ready?" Johann asked gripping the box lid.

"Ready," Hiccup said, trying hard to fill his head with happy thoughts about Gryffindor winning, and not dark thoughts about what was going to happen when the box opened.

"Go!" Johann yelled, pulling the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forwards, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending towards Hiccup.

Hiccup concentrated once again on that memory, but once again white fog obscured his senses…big, blurred shapes were moving around him…then came a new voice, a man's voice, shouting, panicking—

_"Val, take Hiccup and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"_

_The sounds of someone stumbling from a room—a door bursting open—a deep booming laughter—_

"Hiccup…Hiccup, wake up…"

Johann was slapping Hiccup’s face. This time it was a minute before Hiccup understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor.

"I heard my dad," Hiccup mumbled as Johann and Raghilda helped him up. "That's the first time I've ever heard him—he tried to take on Drago himself, to give my mum time to run for it…"

Hiccup suddenly realized that there were tears on his face, mingling with sweat. He bent his face low as possible, wiping them off on his sleeve, pretending to put his boot properly on, so that the others wouldn't see. Judging by the tightening of Raghilda’s grip, he hadn’t succeeded.

"You heard Stoick?" Johann asked, in a strange voice.

"Yeah…" Face dry, Hiccup looked up. "You knew my dad, didn't you?"

"I—I did, as a matter of fact," Johann said. "We were friends at Berk."

It was then when Hiccup realized why the name Johann was so familiar to him; Gobber had mentioned the name to him last year, and told him that Johann was traveling the world.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Johann spoke again. "Listen, Hiccup—perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This magic is ridiculously advanced…I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this…"

"No!" Hiccup said. He got up again. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things; that has to be it…give me a minute…"

He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory…one that he could turn into a good, strong Guardian…

The moment when he first met Astrid, and the time they became friends! If those weren’t happy memories, he didn't know what a happy memory was…Hiccup got to his feet and faced the packing case once more, concentrating very hard on how he had felt when he'd first laid eyes on Astrid.

"Ready?" Johann called, looking as though he was doing this against his better judgement. "Concentrating hard? All right—go!"

He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room turned cold and dark—

Hiccup concentrated as hard as he could on a memory of Astrid’s laughter—beautiful, song-like laughter, nothing like that of Drago Bludvist—the screaming inside Hiccup's head had started again—except this time, it sounded as though it was coming from a badly tuned radio. Softer and louder and softer again…and he could still see the Dementor…it had halted…and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Hiccup's sword, to hover between him and began to move the Dementor back, and though Hiccup's legs felt like water, he was still on his feet—though for how much longer, he wasn't sure—

Then Johann jumped in front of him. There was a loud crack, and Hiccup's cloudy silvery mist vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into the chair Raghilda had just pushed behind him, feeling as if he'd just run a mile, his legs shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Johann forcing the Boggart back into the packing case with his dagger; it had turned into a silvery orb again.

"You did it, Hiccup," Raghilda said softly, smiling at him.

"Excellent!" Johann said, striding over to where Hiccup sat. "That was definitely a start!"

"Can we have another go? Just one more go?"

"Oh, no," Johann said firmly. "You've had more than enough practice for one night. Here—"

He handed Hiccup a large bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate.

"Eat the lot, or Bergljot will be after my blood. Same time next week, then?"

"Okay," Hiccup said.

"And Raghilda, perhaps you’d like to try your hand at it as well?"

Her smile widened so much it almost managed to reach her eyes. "Yes sir!"

Hiccup took a bite of the chocolate and watched Johann extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the Dementor. A thought had just occurred to him.

"Johann?" he said. "If you knew my dad, you must've known Alvin the Treacherous as well—"

He almost wished he hadn’t said anything. Raghilda’s entire body became rigid, the smile sliding off of her face, and Johann spun around.

"What gives you that idea?" he asked sharply.

"Nothing—I mean, I just knew they were friends at Berk, too…"

Unlike Raghilda, Johann relaxed a bit.

"Yes, I knew him very well," he said shortly. "Or at least, I thought I did. You'd better leave, the two of you; it's getting very late."

They left the classroom in silence. Hiccup walked along the corridor and around a corner, then took a detour behind a stone statue and sank down on its plinth to finish his chocolate, wishing he hadn't mentioned Alvin, as Johann was obviously not keen on the subject.

Then Hiccup's thoughts wandered back to his mother and father…

He felt drained and strangely empty, even though he was so full of chocolate. Awful though it was to hear his parents' last moments replayed inside his head, these were the only times Hiccup had heard their voices since he was a very small child. But he'd never be able to produce a proper Guardian if he half-wanted to hear his parents again…

"Hiccup?" Raghilda whispered, appearing right behind him.

"They're dead," he told himself sternly, ignoring her. "They're dead, and listening to echoes of them won't bring them back. You'd better get a grip on yourself if you want that Dragon Racing Cup."

He stood up, crammed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth and headed back to the Gryffindor Common Room without a word to Raghilda.

* * *

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Eret, this was great news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Johann's Anti-Dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Dragon Racing practices put together, and with him busy creating that prosthetic tail fin for Toothless before their next match, Hiccup had just one night a week to do all his homework. Raghilda did her best to help, but with her having extra lessons with Gothi on top of the Anti-Dementor classes, it only got him so far.

Even so, he wasn't showing the strain _nearly_ as much as Ragnar, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to him. Every night, without fail, Ragnar was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, Rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes. He barely spoke to anybody, and snapped whenever he was interrupted, even unintentionally. He’d already made a couple first year girls cry.

"How's he doing it?" Astrid muttered to Hiccup one evening, as Hiccup sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Asketill. Hiccup looked up. Ragnar was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.

"Doing what, Astrid?" Raghilda asked, giving the pile an apprehensive look.

"Getting to all his classes!" Astrid hissed. "I heard him talking to Vector the Calculator, that Arithmancy Valkyrie, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Ragnar can't've been there, because he was with us in Forging! And Speedfist Boilson told me he's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Soothsaying, and he's never missed one of them, either!"

Raghilda shrugged. "You’d have to ask him…but I can’t advise you doing that, not with a good conscience anyway."

Hiccup didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Ragnar's impossible timetable at the moment; he really needed to get on with Asketill's essay if he didn’t want to get detention.

Two seconds later, however, he was interrupted again, this time by Eret.

"I’ve got some dreadful news, Hiccup. I just saw Phlegma about the Firebolt. She—uh—she said no," Eret said. "I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it…" He screwed up his face and imitated Phlegma's severe voice, "'As long as necessary, Eretson'…I reckon it's time you ordered a new saddle, Hiccup. There's an order form at the back of _Which Saddle_ …you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Snotlout's got."

"There no way on Midgard I'm buying something that Snotlout thinks is good," Hiccup said flatly. "I’ll fly _bareback_ if I have to…"

* * *

January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Hiccup still hadn't ordered a new saddle. He was now asking Phlegma for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Astrid and Raghilda standing right behind him, Ragnar rushing past with his face averted.

"No, Hiccup, you can't have it back yet," Phlegma said told him the twelfth time this happened, before he'd even opened his mouth. "And the same goes for Ragnar’s forge kit. We've checked for most of the usual curses, but Alvar believes the saddle and the forge kit might be carrying a Hurling Hex. I shall _tell_ you and Ragnar once we've finished checking them. Now, please stop badgering me."

The only good news was that Hiccup had finally finished Toothless' prosthetic tailfin. The tailfin itself was red with a white Viking helmet painted on it. The only problem was that Toothless would not be able to move it by himself. Hiccup had come up with ways to operate the tailfin by himself, but the tests weren't going the way as he had hoped.

True to his dreams, the first few tests had been disastrous. The first was just with the plain tailfin, and Toothless had been so excited that he got a new tailfin that he took off with Hiccup clinging onto his tail for dear life and they ended up landing in the lake.

The second time wasn't much better; Hiccup tried to operate the tailfin with a piece of rope in his hand, but once he pulled the tailfin didn't move, and they ended up crashing in the lake again.

The third time, Hiccup tied the rope to his leg, but ended up with the same result. Raghilda had had to bite down on her knuckle to keep from laughing.

To make matters even worse, Hiccup's Anti-Dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as he had hoped. Several sessions on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the Boggart-Dementor approached him, but his Guardian was too feeble to drive the Dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semi-transparent cloud, draining Hiccup of energy as he fought to keep it there. Hiccup felt angry with himself, guilty about his secret desire to hear his parents' voices again.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," Raghilda told him softly, in their fourth week of practice. "For a thirteen-year-old Viking, even an indistinct Guardian is a miraculous achievement, especially in such a short amount of time. Besides, you aren't passing out any more; that’s more than I can say for myself."

She had indeed continued to fall over after each and every attempt. Johann said it was because she had very few happy memories at the moment. As such, the sentiment didn’t cheer Hiccup up all that much.

"I thought a Guardian would—charge the Dementors down or something," Hiccup said dispiritedly. "Destroy them—"

"A true Guardian does that," Johann said. "But you've both achieved a great deal in very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Dragon Racing match, Hiccup, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," Hiccup said.

"I have complete confidence in you," Johann said, smiling. "Here—you two have earned yourselves a drink. Something from the Green Dragon, you won't have tried it before—"

He pulled three bottles out of his trunk.

"Butterbeer!" Hiccup said, without thinking. "Yeah, I like that stuff!"

Johann raised an eyebrow. Raghilda shot him a look of _"Oh well done, you’ve blown your cover."_

"Oh—Astrid and Ragnar brought me some back from Berksmeade," Hiccup lied quickly.

"I see," Johann said, though he still looked slightly suspicious. "Well—let's drink to Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher…" he added hastily, as Raghilda started giggling.

They drank the Butterbeer in silence, until Hiccup voiced something he'd been wondering for a while.

"What's under a Dementor's hood?"

Johann lowered his bottle thoughtfully.

"Hmmm…well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon."

"What's that?"

"They call it the Dementor's' Kiss," Johann said, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and—and suck out his soul."

Hiccup accidentally spat out a bit of Butterbeer.

"What—they kill—?"

"No," Raghilda said, "It’s much, _much_ worse than that. As long as your brain and heart are still working, you can still live, but you have no sense of self any more, no memory, no emotions, no…anything." She shuddered, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "You can't die and enter the gates of Valhalla after that; your soul is long gone. There's no chance of recovery. You'll just…exist, as nothing more than an empty shell. No one— _not even Drago Bludvist himself_ —deserves such a fate. It is disgusting, cruel and inhumane in every sense of the fucking word."

It was perfectly clear to Hiccup that she wholeheartedly believed that statement.

Johann drank a little more Butterbeer, before saying in a gentle voice, "It's the fate that awaits your father, Raghilda. It was in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning. The Ministry has given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

Hiccup half-thought Raghilda was going to scream. He himself was stunned at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. It seemed a terrible fate.

Did Alvin deserve it? Maybe, but he wasn’t about to say that in front of Raghilda.

He would have liked to have told Johann about the conversation he'd overheard about Alvin in the Green Dragon, about Alvin betraying his mother and father and how he abandoned Ragnar and his mother for Drago, but it would have involved revealing that he'd gone to Berksmeade without permission, and he knew Johann wouldn't be very impressed by that. So he finished his Butterbeer, thanked Johann, and led Raghilda out of the History of Magic classroom by the arm.

Hiccup half-wished that he hadn't asked what was under a Dementor's hood, the answer had been so horrible, and he was so lost in unpleasant thoughts of what it would feel like to have his soul sucked out, that he missed the fact that Raghilda had stopped moving and walked headlong into Phlegma halfway up the stairs.

"Do watch where you're going, Hiccup!"

"Sorry, ma'am—"

"I've been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room. Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all—you've got a very good friend somewhere, Hiccup…"

Hiccup's jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt, and it looked as magnificent as ever.

"I can have it back?" Hiccup asked weakly.

"Yes," Phlegma said, and she was actually smiling. Then she pulled out Ragnar's forge kit. "Also I would ask if you can return Ragnar’s forge kit to him; it was clean as well."

"I’ll give it to him," Raghilda said, taking the forge kit.

Phlegma then looked at the Firebolt. "I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match and to fix Toothless' tailfin, won't you? And, Hiccup— _do_ try and win, won't you? Otherwise we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Asketill was kind enough to remind me the other night…"

Speechless, Hiccup carried the Firebolt back upstairs towards the Gryffindor Common Room, Raghilda following with the forge kit. As he turned a corner to where Raghilda and Astrid’s dormitory was, he saw Astrid dashing towards them, grinning from ear to ear.

"She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it tomorrow?"

"Yeah…anything…" Hiccup said, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. "I have to give Ragnar his forge kit, that's clean too, and while we're at it we should make it up him. He was only trying to help…"

"I guess you're right," Astrid said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "He's in the common room now—working, for a change."

They turned into the corridor to the Gryffindor Common Room and saw Fishlegs, pleading with Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance.

"I wrote them down," Fishlegs was saying tearfully, "but I must've dropped them somewhere!"

"Ha—a likely tale, villain!" Cadogan roared. Then, spotting Hiccup, Raghilda, and Astrid, he called, "Good evening to you, young man! And you too, my fairest ladies!"

Astrid clenched her fists and said, through gritted teeth, "If he calls me that one more time—"

"What’s going on here?" Raghilda asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"This oaf has dared to ask entry for the chamber within!" Cadogan roared.

"I've lost the passwords!" Fishlegs told them miserably. "I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!"

"Oddsbodikins," Hiccup said to Cadogan, who looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forwards to let them into the common room.

There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment, Hiccup was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt. Raghilda backed away from him, wincing repeatedly.

"Where'd you get it, Hiccup?

"Will you let me have a go?"

"Have you ridden it yet, Hiccup?"

"Ravenclaw'll have no chance; they're all on Cleansweeps Sevens!"

"Can I just _hold_ it, Hiccup?"

After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was passed around and admired from every possible angle, the crowd dispersed, and Hiccup and the girls had a clear view of Ragnar, the only person who hadn't rushed over to them, bent over his work and carefully avoiding their eyes. They approached his table and at last, he looked up.

"I got it back," Hiccup said, grinning at him and holding up the Firebolt.

"See, Rag? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" Astrid said.

"Well—there _might_ have been!" Ragnar said. "I mean think about from my point of view—if my best friend died because of my father, I'd never live with myself."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Raghilda’s lips. "The forge kit was clean as well. It ought to make Uncle Gobber’s classes even easier for you."

Ragnar glanced at her, and for a moment Hiccup thought he might actually speak to the girl, perhaps even nicely. But he quickly looked back at his work.

Raghilda shrugged, the smile fading. "Can’t say I didn’t try."

"I'll take them up to your dorm!" Astrid said eagerly. "Come on, Raghilda!"

She took both the Firebolt and the forge kit without asking and rushed upstairs before anyone could say a thing. With another wince, Raghilda followed after her.

"Can I sit down?" Hiccup asked Ragnar.

"Huh? Oh—sure," Ragnar said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.

Hiccup looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay ("Explain why Muggles Need Electricity") and at the Rune translation Ragnar was now poring over.

"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Hiccup asked him.

"Oh, well—you know—working hard," Ragnar said. Close up, Hiccup saw that he looked almost as tired as Johann.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Hiccup asked, watching him lifting books as he searched for his Rune dictionary.

"I couldn't do that!" Ragnar said. He seemed scandalized by the very idea.

"Rag, at the rate you’re going you’re going to work yourself into a coma—"

All of a sudden, an ear-splitting scream echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring petrified, as the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then, Astrid came leaping into view, dragging with her a bed sheet. Raghilda followed in her wake, holding something in her hand.

"LOOK!" Astrid bellowed, striding over to Ragnar's table. "LOOK!" she yelled, shaking the sheets in his face.

"Astrid, what—?"

"SCABBARD! LOOK! SCABBARD!"

Ragnar was leaning away from Astrid, looking utterly bewildered. Hiccup stared at the sheet Astrid was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like—

"BLOOD!" Astrid yelled into the stunned silence. "THIS IS _YOUR_ BEDSHEET! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR NEXT TO IT?"

"N-no," Ragnar said, clearly nervous.

Raghilda reached the table and gently placed something down onto Ragnar's Rune translation. Ragnar and Hiccup leaned forward.

Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several rat hairs and a large, orange dragon scale.

* * *

**Uh-oh...**

**Shout-out to Lord_Dominator, who went through all of the stories, bookmarked all of them, and then bookmarked the series as a whole, all in under twenty-four hours. That made my day.**

**Highlight of chapter: The part that is in Raghilda's POV. She's a pretty tricky character to write—when you're trying to avoid spoilers, at least—but I love her to bits.**

**(Also someone from the Daily Prophet overheard Fudge and Alvis discussing the fact that Raghilda was alive and leaked it to the public. No points for guessing who it was)**


	14. Gryffindor Versus Ravenclaw

**Today marks this series' one year anniversary on AO3! Wow, how far we've come in so little time!**

**And guess who went to Harry Potter Weekend on Saturday? Gods, trying to find a parking place was a nightmare. Took half an hour.**

**(Also saw Lion King that** **evening)**

**On to this very special chapter!**

**Why is it special?**

**Well...**

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen: Gryffindor Versus Ravenclaw_

* * *

It looked like the end of Astrid and Ragnar's friendship. Each was so infuriated with the other that Hiccup couldn’t possibly see how they'd ever make up.

Astrid was enraged that Ragnar had never taken Amber's attempts to eat Scabbard seriously, and hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on her. Ragnar had responded to these accusations by suggesting that Astrid _look_ for Scabbard, as there was "no way" the rat could have wound up in his dormitory when Astrid was now far away. He remained convinced that Amber was innocent, that the blood and hairs must have come from something else, and that Astrid had been prejudiced against his Terrible Terror ever since Amber had landed on Astrid’s head in the Magical Menagerie.

Personally, Hiccup was certain that Amber had eaten Scabbard, but he said nothing. He had only just made up with Ragnar, and he wasn't about to put any more strain on their friendship so soon.

The only time they had discussed it, alone in their dormitory, Ragnar had said "The evidence pointing to Amber is all circumstantial—and in any case, that didn’t look like rat blood to me. Besides, you should never count someone dead if there isn't a body."

Hiccup thought it best not to remind him that was what his father always said.

Astrid had taken the loss of her rat very hard indeed.

"Come on, Astrid, you were always complaining about how boring Scabbard was," Double said bracingly as the girl cried. "You never even wanted him to begin with. And he's been off color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly. One swallow—he probably didn't even feel a thing. He might’ve still been sleeping."

Astrid just sobbed even harder. Hiccup pulled her into a hug, trying to calm her down.

Raghilda smacked Double’s arm. "You’re not helping."

"All he did was eat and sleep, Astrid, you said it yourself," Trouble said.

"He bit Falskur for me once," the blonde said miserably into Hiccup’s shoulder. "I told you about that, didn’t I Raghilda?"

"Yes, you did."

"When was this?" Hiccup asked, hoping to distract her a bit (and trying not to feel jealous that Astrid had shared something with Raghilda and not with him).

"First time on the train, after I left you and Ragnar, I bumped into Snotlout and his goons again," Astrid explained, sniffling. "Falskur grabbed my shoulder and Scabbard bit him."

"His finest hour," Double said, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the scar on Falskur’s finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Astrid, get yourself down to Berksmeade and buy a new rat. What's the point of crying?"

In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Astrid up, Hiccup persuaded her to come along to the Gryffindor team's final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that she could have a go on the Firebolt after they'd finished. This did seem to take Astrid's mind off Scabbard for a moment ("… Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?" "Of course you can, Milady.") so they set off the Dragon Racing stadium with Raghilda in tow.

Getting there was a lot easier said than done; Hiccup had yet to master the new stirrup that he had attached to the saddle in order to operate Toothless’s tailfin, but they somehow managed to fly over. Madam Flyheart, who was still overseeing Gryffindor practices to keep an eye on Hiccup, was just as impressed with the Firebolt as everyone else had been. She wondered over Toothless and examined the saddle in order to give them the benefit of her professional opinion.

"Sweet Freya, look at the balance on this beauty! If the Nimbus series has a fault, it's a slight list to the dragon's tail—you often find they start to drag the dragon down after a few years, especially when the saddle is used for rigorous sporting events. They've updated the reins, too, made ‘em a bit slimmer than the Cleansweeps, reminds me of the old Silver Arrows—a pity they've stopped making them, I learned to fly on one, and a very fine old saddle it was too. You've done a first rate job to get Toothless back into the air Haddock, the best anyone could, though I believe that the stirrup will slow you down a bit…"

She continued in this vein for some time, until Eret said, "Uh—Madam Flyheart? Is it okay if Hiccup can get on Toothless? We need to practice…"

"Oh—right—here you go, then, Haddock," Madam Flyheart said, looking a little embarrassed. "I'll sit over here with Miss Hofferson and Miss Harkstow…"

She, Astrid and Raghilda left the pitch to sit in the stadium, and the Gryffindor team gathered around Eret for his final instructions for tomorrow's match.

"Hiccup, I've just found out who Ravenclaw is playing as their Seeker. Her name is Heather Valdaha—"

"Wait, Heather is the Ravenclaw Seeker?" Hiccup asked with a jolt of surprise.

Heather Valdaha was a third year student. She was a friend of Astrid’s, who Hiccup had only spoken to twice. The second time, she had met Ragnar, and the pair had became friends in record time. They’d been writing back and forth to each other all summer, and had been hanging out a lot, as they had Arithmancy and Ancient Runes together.

Somehow, the fact that she’d been made Ravenclaw’s new Seeker had never come up, as Hiccup was fairly certain Ragnar would’ve told him that.

"Yes," Eret said stiffly. He didn’t look pleased by the fact that Hiccup knew his opponent. "You know her?"

"We've met a few times, but I had no idea that she played."

"Ah. Well, from what I've heard she's rather good…I had really hoped she wouldn't be fit; she's had some problems with injuries…" Eret scowled his displeasure that Heather had made a full recovery, and said, "On the other hand, she rides a Comet Two Sixty, which ought to look like a right joke next to the Firebolt." He gave the Firebolt a look of fervent admiration, then said, "but she rides a Razorwhip called Windshear, which I gather is quite deadly and fast, though nowhere near as speedy as a Night Fury. Okay everyone, let's go—"

Hiccup mounted on Toothless, opened the tailfin with the stirrup, and took off into the sky.

Arguably the hardest part of operating the tailfin was trying to get the reaction time right, meaning he ended up in the water a few more times (he was going to catch a cold by this point), but he got better and better over the course of the practice.

Thanks to the Firebolt, Toothless was moving twice as fast as he did before. They sped across the stadium at such a speed that the water below was nothing more than a blue and grey blur; Toothless turned so sharply that Elfchild Spinson screamed, and then he went into a perfectly controlled dive, skimming across the water with his toes before Hiccup pulled his up thirty, forty, fifty feet into the air again—

"Hiccup, I'm letting the Snitch out!" Eret called.

Hiccup turned and raced a Bludger towards one of the baskets; he outstripped it easily, saw the Snitch dart out from behind Eret and within ten seconds had caught it tightly in his hand.

The team cheered, as did Raghilda and Astrid in the stands. Hiccup let the Snitch go again, gave it a minute's head start, then tore after it, weaving in and out of the others; he spotted it lurking near Kari Bellson's knee, looped her easily, and caught it again.

It was the best practice ever; the team, inspired by the presence of the combination of Toothless, the Firebolt, and their mini-audience, performed their best moves faultlessly, and by the time they hit the ground again, Eret didn't have a single criticism to make, which (as Trouble excitedly pointed out) was a first.

"I can't see what could possibly stop us tomorrow!" Eret exclaimed. "Not unless…Hiccup, you've sorted your Dementor problem, haven't you?"

"Yeah…" Hiccup said, thinking of his feeble Guardian and wishing it was stronger.

"The Dementors won't turn up again, Eret; Alvis would go berserk," Double said in full confidence.

"Well, let's hope not," Eret said. "Anyway—good work everyone. Let's get back to the common room—turn in early…"

"I'm staying out for a bit; Astrid wants a go on the Firebolt," Hiccup told Eret, and while the rest of the team headed off to the changing rooms, Hiccup strode over to Astrid and Raghilda, who rushed off their seats to come and meet him. Madam Flyheart had fallen asleep in her seat.

"Here you go," Hiccup said, gesturing to Toothless.

After giving them a brief lesson on how to operate the tailfin, Astrid and Raghilda took turns mounting Toothless and zooming off into the gathering darkness while Hiccup walked around the edge of the water, watching them. Astrid was a bit shaky about riding a dragon that wasn’t Stormfly, and she hadn't formed a bond with Toothless like Hiccup had, but she was doing alright.

Raghilda, to Hiccup’s surprise, took to riding Toothless with relative ease, though she too lacked a proper bond with him.

"I wish I did—the Night Fury’s my favorite dragon," she had told him. "…Please don’t tell Groundsplitter I said that."

Night had long fallen before Madam Flyheart awoke with a start, told the three off for not waking her (which even Toothless failed to look guilty about), and insisted that they go back to the fort.

Hiccup and Raghilda mounted Toothless, Astrid mounted Stormfly, and they flew out of the shadowy stadium, discussing the Firebolt's superbly smooth action, along with its ability to boost Toothless’s phenomenal acceleration and pinpoint turning.

They had just reached the island when Hiccup, glancing to his left, saw something that made his heart turn over—a pair of eyes, gleaming out of the darkness.

Hiccup stopped dead, his heart banging against his ribs.

"What's the matter?" Raghilda asked, her grip on his waist tightening.

Hiccup pointed. Astrid pulled out her axe and summoned a fireball and sent it towards into the darkness. The fireball hovered over a bush and there, crouching amongst the branches, was Amber.

"It's only Amber," Astrid muttered. "Ragnar needs to get that Terrible Terror under control; she's probably washing down Scabbard with a couple of fish now…"

Hiccup didn't say anything. He took a deep breath as relief seeped through him; he had been sure for a moment that those eyes had belonged to the Signpost of Valhalla. After leaving Toothless and Stormfly at the stables, they set off for the mountain. Slightly ashamed of his moment of panic, Hiccup didn't say anything to the girls—nor did he look left or right until they had reached the well-lit Great Hall.

* * *

Hiccup went down to breakfast next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom, apart from a rather sullen-looking Ragnar, seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard of honor. Astrid and Raghilda had joined in as well, standing on either side of Hiccup like bodyguards.

As Hiccup entered the Great Hall, nearly every head turned in the direction of the Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. Hiccup saw, with enormous satisfaction, that the Slytherin team all looked thunderstruck.

"Did you see his face?" Astrid said gleefully, looking back at Snotlout. "He can't believe it! This is great!"

Raghilda nodded, her lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. "Pride goeth before the fall."

Eret, too, was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolt.

"Put it here, Hiccup," he said, laying the saddle in the middle of the table, making sure that its name faced upwards. People from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Eric Digson came over to congratulate Hiccup on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Askeladden's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Clearwater Puddleson, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt.

"Now, now, Clear, no sabotage!" Askeladden said heartily, as she ran her fingers over the words sewn into the upper corner. "Clearwater and I have got a bet on," he told the team. "Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!"

Clearwater put the Firebolt down again, thanked Hiccup and went back to her table.

"Hiccup—make sure you win," Askeladden said in a suddenly urgent whisper. " _I don’t have ten Galleons_. Yes, yes, I'm coming, Clear darling!" And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.

Heather then walked up to take a look. She was a pretty, black-haired girl with green eyes and a Ravenclaw tattoo on her right wrist. Her clothes were a bit ragged, but she looked beautiful all the same.

"Nice saddle, Hiccup," she said, looking at the saddle impressively. She looked back at him and smirked. "But it's going to take a lot more than that to beat Windshear and me."

She then looked over at Ragnar, who was reading one of his books for Muggle Studies, entitled _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_. She grinned and rushed over to him.

"Hey," she said, poking his shoulder to get his attention.

Ragnar’s head shot up, clearly annoyed. But as he saw who had interrupted him, he immediately brightened. "Hey Heather."

"What’re you reading?"

Ragnar glanced at the book again—and then snapped it shut and put it back in his satchel. "Not important."

"Is that so?" she sat down next to him and stole a biscuit off of his plate, seemingly unaware of Ragnar’s reddening face.

"Sure you and your dragon can manage that saddle, Useless?" a cold, sneering voice called.

Snotlout had arrived for a closer look, Hjartán and Falskur right behind him.

"Yeah, reckon so," Hiccup said casually.

"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" Snotlout said, his eyes glittering with malice. "Shame it doesn't come with an extra tailfin for that flightless dragon of yours."

Hjartán and Falskur sniggered. Astrid got up, glaring at Snotlout, and probably would have punched him if Raghilda hadn't grabbed her arms.

"He’s not worth your anger," she said softly.

"Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Snotlout," Hiccup said. "Then it could catch the Snitch for you."

The Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Snotlout scowled at him, and stormed off. They watched him re-join the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Snotlout whether Hiccup's new saddle really was a Firebolt.

"I'd be careful," Ragnar said, looking away from Heather to glare at Snotlout. "I'd bet all the books I own that he's up to something."

Hiccup couldn’t help but agree with him.

At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the changing rooms. The weather couldn't have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff; it was a clear, cool day, with a very light breeze. There would be no problems this time, and Hiccup, though nervous, was starting to feel the excitement only a Dragon Racing match could bring. They could hear the rest of the academy moving into the stadium beyond. Hiccup began putting red face paint on Toothless and himself, and made sure his sword was ready, in case any Dementors decided to pay a visit. He suddenly wondered whether Johann was in the crowd, watching.

"You know what we've got to do," Eret said, as they prepared to leave the changing rooms. "If we lose this match, we're out of the running. Just—just fly like you did in practice yesterday, and we'll be okay!"

They mounted their dragons and flew into the stadium to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, all of whom were wearing blue face paint, was already on their dragons. Hiccup then saw Heather, who waved at him; she was riding on a Razorwhip which Hiccup guessed was Windshear.

Windshear had a long, slender neck. Her scales appeared to be large, grey and metallic-like due to their reflective properties. She had a long ledge on the top of her snout and a short, stumpy one on the bottom. She appeared to be covered in metal armor. She had a short, spiky sail and has spikes all along its wings. Her teeth seemed to wrap around the edge of her mouth. She had a high ridge over her eyes and four legs with two talons on each foot.

Heather smirked at Hiccup as the teams faced each other behind their captains, and he felt a slight jolt of nerves in the region of his stomach.

"Eretson, Hasson, shake hands," Madam Flyheart said briskly, and Eret shook hands with the Ravenclaw captain.

"Get ready…on my whistle…three—two—one—"

Toothless took off like a bullet from a gun and Hiccup began to operate his tailfin. Even with the setback, they were going faster than any other dragon; they soared around the stadium and Hiccup began squinting around for the Snitch, listening all the while to the commentary, which was being provided by the Hofferson twins' friend, Lock Jordson.

"They're off, and the big excitement of this match is the Firebolt which is strapped to a Night Fury, who is being ridden by Hiccup Haddock of Gryffindor. Now due to an accident during Gryffindor's last match Hiccup's Night Fury, Toothless, has lost a tailfin, but young Hiccup, using some impressive forge skills, has replaced it with a prosthetic which is operated by a stirrup on the Firebolt. According to _Which Saddle_ , the Firebolt's going to be the saddle of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship—"

"Jordson, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" Phlegma's voice interrupted.

"Right you are, ma'am—just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in fire breath booster and—"

"Jordson, focus on the game!"

"Okay, okay! Gryffindor in possession, Kari Bellson of Gryffindor heading for the goal…"

Hiccup streaked past Kari in the opposite direction, gazing around for a black, small ball and noticing that Heather was tailing him closely. She was undoubtedly a very good rider—she kept cutting across him, forcing him to change direction.

"Show her your acceleration, Hiccup!" Double yelled, as he whooshed past in pursuit of a Bludger that was aiming for Elfchild.

"Okay, bud, let's show them what we've got," Hiccup said.

Toothless nodded and they rounded the Ravenclaw basket. Heather fell right behind them.

Just as Kari succeeded in scoring the first goal of the match, and the Gryffindor end of the pitch went wild, he saw it—the Snitch was close to the water, fluttering near one of the pontoons.

Hiccup dived; Heather saw what he was doing and tore after him. As Toothless started speeding up, excitement flooded into Hiccup; dives were their specialty. They were ten feet away—

Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; a cursing Toothless veered off course, avoiding it by an inch. In those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished.

There was a great "Ooooooh" of disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for their Beater from the Ravenclaw end. Trouble vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in mid-air to avoid it.

"Gryffindor lead by eighty points to zero, and look at Toothless go! Haddock's really putting that Firebolt of his through its paces now. See it turn—Valdaha's Comet is just no match for it. The Firebolt's brings precision-balance to the dragon wearing it, and you can clearly see it—"

"JORDSON, ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS?! GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

Ravenclaw was pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead—if Heather got the Snitch before him, Ravenclaw would win. Hiccup dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser, scanning the stadium frantically. Then he saw a dark glow, a fluttering of tiny wings—the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor basket…

Toothless accelerated, Hiccup's eyes fixed on the speck of black ahead—but then Heather and Windshear suddenly appeared, blocking their path—

"HICCUP, NOW IS _NOT_ THE TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" Eret bellowed, as Hiccup pressed down on the stirrup to avoid a collision. "YOU ARE A VIKING, FOR THOR’S SAKE—KNOCK HER OFF OF HER DRAGON IF YOU HAVE TO!"

Hiccup turned and caught sight of Heather; she was grinning triumphantly. The Snitch had vanished again. Toothless flew upwards and was soon twenty feet above the game. Out of the corner of his eye, Hiccup saw Heather following them…she'd decided to mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself. Right then…if she wanted to tail him, she'd have to face the consequences…

"Okay, bud, follow my lead," Hiccup muttered.

They dived again, and Heather, thinking he'd seen the Snitch, tried to follow. Toothless pulled out of the dive very sharply, she hurtled downwards; he rose fast as a bullet once more, and then Hiccup saw it, for the third time: the Snitch was glittering way above the stadium at the Ravenclaw end.

Toothless saw it too and accelerated; so, many feet below, did Heather. They were winning, gaining on the Snitch with every second—then—

"Oh!" Heather screamed, pointing.

Distracted, Hiccup looked down.

Three Dementors, three tall, black, hooded Dementors, were looking up at him on one of the pontoons.

He didn't even stop to think about why they would be there. He pulled out his sword, pointed it at the Dementors and concentrated on the happy memory of Astrid laughing.

Something silver white, something enormous, erupted from the tip of the sword. He knew it had shot directly at the Dementors, but he didn't pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he switched his sword into his right hand and just barely managed to close his left hand over the small, struggling Snitch.

Madam Flyheart's whistle sounded. Toothless turned around in mid-air just in time for them to see six scarlet blurs bearing down on them. Next moment, the whole team was hugging Hiccup so hard he was nearly yanked off of Toothless. Down below he could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.

"That's my boy!" Eret kept yelling. Elfchild, Ashe and Kari all kissed Hiccup’s cheek, and Double had him in a grip so tight Hiccup was worried that his head might pop off. The Gryffindor dragons were roaring proudly at Toothless, who was beside himself.

In complete disarray, the team managed to make its way back to the pontoons. Hiccup got off Toothless, gave him a well-deserved rub on the head, and looked up just in time to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters sprinting towards them, Astrid in the lead. Before he knew it, he had been engulfed by the cheering crowd.

"Yes!" Astrid yelled, hugging Hiccup tight and kissing him on the cheek repeatedly. "Yes! Yes!"

"You did it, Hiccup!" Raghilda exclaimed, a bright smile overcoming her normally impassive face. The Hofferson twins grabbed her and spun her around the pair in a weird-looking dance.

"Well _done_ , Hiccup!" Askeladden said, looking delighted. "That’s ten Galleons to me! Must find Clear, excuse me—"

"That was awesome!" Tuffnut roared.

"Yeah, it was so cool when you shot out that silver stuff!" Ruffnut agreed.

"Good going, lad!" Gobber boomed over the heads of the milling Gryffindors.

"That was quite some Guardian," a voice said in Hiccup's ear.

Hiccup turned around to see Johann, who looked both shaken and pleased.

"The Dementors didn't affect me at all!" Hiccup said excitedly. "I didn't feel a thing!"

"Sorry to disappoint you Hiccup, but—uh—they weren’t Dementors," Johann said. "Come and see—"

He led Hiccup out of the crowd and onto another pontoon.

"You gave Mr Jorgenson quite a fright," Johann said.

Hiccup stared. In the freezing water were Snotlout, Hjartán, Falskur and Dagur, the Slytherin team captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black and now soaked hooded robes. It looked as though Snotlout had been standing on Falskur's shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost outrage on her face, was Phlegma.

"An unworthy trick!" she was bellowing. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Alvis about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

If anything could have set the seal on Gryffindor's victory, it was this. Astrid and Raghilda, who had fought their way through to Hiccup's side, were laughing so hard they had to lean against him for support as the group watched Snotlout attempt to lift himself out of the freezing cold water.

(Hiccup hadn’t known Raghilda was capable of actual laughter)

"Maybe that’ll cool down his ego a bit," she mused, her face starting to turn pink.

"We can only hope!" Astrid giggled into Hiccup’s shoulder.

"Come on, Hiccup!" Trouble said, fighting his way over. "Team’s waiting for you!"

"Party in the Gryffindor common room, right now!" Double added.

"Right," Hiccup laughed, and feeling happier than he had in ages, he, the girls, and the rest of the team led the way out of the stadium and back to the island.

* * *

It felt as though they had already won the Dragon Racing Cup; the party went on all day and well into the night. Double and Trouble disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of Butterbeer, pumpkin fizz and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

"How did you do that?" Ashe Herkson squealed, as Trouble started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

"With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Forge and Fangs," Double muttered in Hiccup's ear, before turning on his heel and presenting a strange-looking bottle to Raghilda, who sniffed it cautiously before taking a sip.

Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. Ragnar, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read the book that, only that morning, he had assured Heather was "Not important".

Hiccup broke away from the table where Double and Trouble had started juggling Butterbeer bottles, and went over to him. "Looks like you get to keep your books," he joked.

Ragnar glanced up, startled, before what Hiccup had said slowly registered. "Yeah, and good thing, too—I have to finish reading this book by Monday."

"Come on, Rag, come and have some food," Hiccup said, looking over to where Astrid stood chatting with Raghilda, and wondering whether she was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet.

"I'd love to, Hic, but I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" Ragnar said. "Anyway…" He glanced over at Astrid, too, " _She_ doesn't want me to join in."

There was no arguing with this, as Astrid chose that moment to tell Raghilda, very loudly, "If only Scabbard hadn't just been _eaten_ , he could have had some of these Fudge Flies, he used to really like them—"

Raghilda tried to shush her, but the damage was done.

Ragnar sighed. "What did I tell you, Hic? She can’t stand me right now."

He got up, tucked the enormous book under his arm and trudged up the staircase to the boys' dormitories.

"Can't you give him a break?" Hiccup asked Astrid as he neared the girls.

"No," Astrid said flatly. "If he just acted like he was sorry about it—but he'll never admit he's wrong, Ragnar. From the way he’s acting, you’d think Scabbard has just gone on holiday or something."

"You know, it’s no fun for me, acting like a bridge between you two," Hiccup said, crossing his arms.

"I don’t know how _you_ can stand him either—he’s still being awful to Raghilda."

"Oh, I wouldn’t call him awful, Astrid," Raghilda said, toying with the clasp of her shawl. "He’s stopped just getting up and leaving when I talk to him, isn’t that a step in the right direction?"

Astrid looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

Raghilda sighed. "Apparently not. Let’s just enjoy the party before Aunt Phlegma tells us to go to bed."

Sure enough, the party only ended when Phlegma turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair-net at one in the morning, to insist that they all went to bed. As Raghilda half-dragged a sleepy, grumpy Astrid out of the portrait hole, Hiccup climbed the stairs to his dormitory, still discussing the match with Fishlegs, Wartihog and Tuffnut. When they got there Ragnar was already in bed, sound asleep with that enormous book resting on his chest. At last, exhausted, Hiccup climbed into his bed, laid back and felt himself almost instantly drifting off to sleep…

He had a very strange dream, very different from the ones he had been having all year. He was walking through a forest, Toothless by his side, following something silvery white. It was winding its way through the trees ahead, and he could only catch glimpses of it between the leaves. Anxious to catch up with it, they sped up, but as they moved faster, so did his quarry. Hiccup broke into a run, with Toothless alongside him, and ahead, he heard a dragon roar. Now they were running flat out, and ahead he could see something big with wings. Then he turned a corner into a clearing and—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Hiccup woke as suddenly as though he'd been hit in the face. Disorientated in total darkness, he fumbled with his blanket—he could hear movements around him, and Fishlegs’s voice from the other side of the room.

"What's going on?"

Hiccup thought he heard the dormitory door slam shut. At last finding the divide in his curtains, he pulled them apart, found a lamp and used some of his fire magic to light it.

Ragnar was sitting bolt upright in his bed, the hangings ripped from one side. There was a look of utmost horror on his face.

"Rag, what’s wrong?" Hiccup asked, swinging the lamp closer to his friend for a better look.

"Alvin! Alvin the Treacherous! He had a knife!"

" _What?_ "

"He was here! Just now! He slashed the curtains and woke me up!"

"Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming, Ragnar?" Fishlegs asked gently.

"Look at the curtains! He was here, I swear on my life he was here!"

They all scrambled out of their beds; Hiccup reached the dormitory door first, and they sprinted back down the staircase. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy voices called from within them.

"Who shouted just now?"

"Oi, what’re you doing?"

The common room was lit with the dim glow of the dying fire, still littered with debris from the party. It was deserted.

"Are you _sure_ you didn’t just dream it all up, Ragnar?"

"I already told you, I saw him!"

"What’s with all the noise?"

"Professor Phlegma told us to go to bed!"

A few girls had come down their staircase, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys, too, were reappearing.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" Double asked brightly.

"Back upstairs, the lot of you!" Askeladden barked, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.

"Askeladden—Alvin the Treacherous!" Ragnar said desperately. "He was in our dormitory! With a knife! He woke me up!"

The common room went very still.

"That's nonsense!" Askeladden said, looking startled. "You must’ve had too much to eat, kid—had a nightmare—"

"I did not—"

"Now, really, enough is enough!"

Phlegma was back, Raghilda trailing behind her. The young girl gently shut the portrait behind her as Phlegma stared around the common room furiously.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Askeladden, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, ma'am!" Askeladden said, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was telling them all to get back to bed! Ragnar here had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ragnar yelled, sounding slightly crazy. "MA'AM, I WOKE UP, AND ALVIN THE TREACHEROUS WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Phlegma and Raghilda stared at him. Raghilda’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ragnar," Phlegma said, "how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"You can ask him!" Ragnar said, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw—"

Glaring suspiciously at Ragnar, Phlegma pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with baited breath.

"Cadogan, did you just let a man enter the Gryffindor Common Room?"

"I certainly did, good lady!" Cadogan cried.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You—you _did_?" Raghilda gaped.

"Indeed, my—er— _fair_ princess!"

If Raghilda had recognized the slight insult for what it was, she didn't show any sign of it.

"But—but the password!" Phlegma protested weakly.

"He had 'em!" Cadogan said, clearly proud. "He had the whole weeks’ worth, madam! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Phlegma pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was almost as white as Raghilda.

"Which person," she started, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords, and then left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Fishlegs, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.

* * *

**And here we are.**

**Chapter fourteen was the chapter we left off on when the stories were deleted from FanFiction. That was a year and four days ago.**

**Somehow, I never thought I'd get here again. It just didn't seem possible.**

**But, well...here we are.**

**Next week, all of the chapters will be completely fresh. Only my editor and myself (and occasionally Gamer Spice and LeoPK) will have pre-existing knowledge of what's going on (excluding what comes from the original story, of course)**

**I'm so f*cking excited.**

**Highlight of chapter: Ragnar and Heather's interaction. The poor boy's smitten, in case you didn't notice.**

**See you next week, with the chapter that has only been read by me thus far.**


	15. Snotlout's Mistake

**(I changed the title because the grudge aspect kind of got removed)**

**Quote I want on a T-shirt: "You can't fix stupid...but you can laugh at it!"**

***looks at Snotlout***

**Enjoy chapter fifteen!**

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen: Snotlout's Mistake_

* * *

No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the fort was being searched again, and the whole house stayed awake in the common room, waiting anxiously to hear whether Alvin had been caught. Raghilda had left with Phlegma, presumably to go back to her own dormitory and inform Astrid of the attempt.

An irritable Phlegma had come back at dawn, to tell them that Alvin had escaped once more.

Everywhere they went the next morning saw signs of tighter security; Alvar could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Alvin the Treacherous; Mildew was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Cadogan had been sacked. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Valkyrie was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had only agreed to return to her job on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.

Hiccup couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed Valkyrie on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Double and Trouble had been right in thinking that they—and now, Hiccup, the girls and Ragnar—were the only ones who knew about the hidden passageway within it.

Poor Fishlegs was in total disgrace. Phlegma was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Berksmeade visits, given him a detention and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the Common Room. The boy would be forced to wait outside the common room every night for someone to take pity and let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.

Ragnar, on the other hand, had become an overnight celebrity. Everyone wanted to talk to him now, and it was clear that he was rather annoyed by it. He was still shaken by the night's events, but at breakfast he reluctantly told an insistent Hiccup what had happened, with a wealth of detail.

"…I heard footsteps. Loud footsteps. And then I could hear fabric ripping. At first I thought they might have been a part of my dream, but then I felt a draft. I rolled over and opened my eyes…and there he was, standing over me, the longest knife I’ve ever seen in his hand…and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he ran.

"Why, though?" He wondered aloud, rubbing his temples. "Why did he run away?"

Hiccup had been wondering the same thing. Why had Alvin, having gotten the wrong bed, not silenced Ragnar and proceeded to Hiccup? Alvin had proved twelve years ago that he didn't mind murdering innocent people, and this time he had been facing five unarmed boys, four of whom were asleep. Sure, Ragnar was his son, but Raghilda was his daughter, and that hadn’t stopped Alvin from endangering _her_ life all those years ago.

"He must’ve known it would be difficult to get out of the mountain, through the village and off the island once you'd yelled and woken people up. He would’ve had to kill the whole house just to get back through the portrait hole…and then he would've met the teachers…"

A groan on their left made both of the boys look over. The sound appeared to have come from Astrid, who had just plonked down on the seat beside Raghilda. Astrid’s eyes were red. Raghilda’s hair was more tangled than usual. They both looked miserable, even if Raghilda was better at hiding it.

"What’s wrong?" Hiccup asked.

Astrid opened her mouth, and then promptly shut it again. She grimaced and cleared her throat. "Nothing."

It was a blatant lie, and Hiccup wasn’t the only one who noticed.

"Astrid, you look like you were up all night," Ragnar said, peering at her in concern. "Something is wrong, I can tell."

Astrid responded to this by burying her head into her arms. Raghilda patted her on the back as she piled kippers onto her plate. "Come on, you had better eat."

"I’m not hungry."

Ragnar raised an eyebrow. "There’s a first."

"Hush." Raghilda stuck a finger under Astrid’s chin and pushed her head up. "Trust me, chickadee, you’re going to need your strength."

Astrid grunted, pushing Raghilda’s hand away. "If I have to eat, so do you. I can still see your ribs through your dress, Raggy."

Hiccup and Ragnar exchanged confused looks. Chickadee? Raggy? When had the girls started referring to each other by nicknames?

Raghilda laughed, but it was strangely high-pitched. "Fair enough, fair enough. Bergljot’ll have a fit if I don't start gaining weight soon."

She took a bowl of porridge, but didn't seem particularly interested in eating it. Indeed, both girls seemed to be eating more for the other’s sake than for their own.

The academy Terrible Terrors swooped into the Great Hall, carrying the post as usual. Fishlegs shook from head to foot as Iggy landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope tried to his leg. Hiccup, who was sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once—Astrid had gotten one from her mother the year before.

Speaking of Astrid, the sight of the red envelope made her far more alert. "Is that…?"

"It is," Ragnar said, shooting Fishlegs a look of pity.

"Run for it, Fishlegs," Raghilda advised.

Fishlegs didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope and, holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the Hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. They heard the Howler go off outside—Fishlegs' grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred time its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame to the Ingerman Clan.

Ragnar sighed and got up. "I’ll go make sure he’s alright."

Hiccup was too busy feeling sorry for Fishlegs to notice immediately that he had a letter, too. Blood-Spatter got his attention by rubbing his arm.

"Oh—thanks, Blood-Spatter…"

Hiccup tore open the envelope while Astrid fed the dragon one of her kippers. The note inside said:

_Dear Hiccup, Astrid and Raghilda,_

_How about having a cup of coffee with me this afternoon round six? I'll come and collect you from the mountain. WAIT FOR ME IN THE GREAT HALL, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN._

_Cheers,_

_Gobber_

Hiccup glanced up at the girls. "Do you want to go?"

The girls looked at each other, then nodded.

So at six o'clock that afternoon, Hiccup left the Gryffindor Common Room, passed the security trolls at a run, and headed down to the girls’ dormitory.

The girls were waiting beside the portrait that led to their common room. The portrait’s background looked like that of Raven’s Point, a cove deep within the Forbidden Forest, and whoever the portrait belonged to wasn’t there.

Raghilda was seated on a bench that had been carved into the wall. Astrid was standing next to her, attempting to twist half of her messy hair into a braid.

"Ow…ow…FUCK!"

"Hold still," Astrid said. She tied the braid and moved to Raghilda’s other side to begin a new one. "It would be easier if I could pull a brush through it…"

"The last time a brush went through my hair, it broke clean in half."

Astrid snorted. "I’ll believe that."

Raghilda then noticed Hiccup. "Hey Hiccup."

Astrid spun around, taking Raghilda’s hair (and her head) with her. "Hiccup!"

"OW!"

"Sorry!" Astrid quickly finished the braid and tied it. "That’ll have to do for now, Raggy."

Raghilda rubbed her head. "I probably deserved that."

She looked back at Hiccup. "Shall we go, then?"

Gobber was waiting for them in the Great Hall.

"Nice braids," he said to Raghilda, opening the front doors and leading them outside.

The first thing they saw on entering Gobber's workshop was Groundsplitter, who was laying out on top of Gobber's patchwork quilt, enjoying a large plate of dead chickens. Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Hiccup saw a gigantic, fur cape.

"What are they for, Gobber?" Hiccup asked.

"Groundsplitter's case against the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures," Gobber said. "This Friday. He an’ I’ll be flyin' to London…"

Hiccup felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Groundsplitter's trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Astrid's face, she had, too. They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Groundsplitter's defense; the arrival of Raghilda had driven it clean out of their minds.

Gobber poured them both coffee and offered them a plate of Bath buns, but they knew better than to accept, having had too much experience with Gobber's cooking. Raghilda didn’t join them; she was seated on the bed beside Groundsplitter, patting his head.

"I’ve got somethin' ter discuss with you two," Gobber said, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.

"What?" Hiccup asked.

"Ragnar," Gobber said.

"What about him?" Astrid asked.

"He's in a righ' state, that's what. Not been actin’ like himself. An’ the two o’ yeh aren’t helpin’ matters. Firs' yeh weren' talkin’ teh him because o' the Firebolt, now yer not talkin' teh him because his Terrible Terror…"

"Hiccup _has_ been talking to him," Astrid interjected angrily.

"Not as much as he used to," Gobber said. "Ragnar’s bitten off more'n he can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work he's tryin' teh do. Still found time ter help me with Groundsplitter's case, mind…he's found some really good stuff fer me…reckon he'll stand a good chance now…"

"Gobber, we should've helped as well—sorry—" Hiccup began awkwardly.

"I'm not blamin' yeh!" Gobber said, waving Hiccup's apology aside. "Thor only knows yeh've had enough ter be getting' on with, I've seen yeh practicing' Dragon Racin' ev'ry hour o' the day an' night and seen yeh work on the prosthetic tailfin for Toothless'—but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n dragons and rats. After all Vikin' before dragons," He then looked at Groundsplitter, "though there are some exceptions."

Behind him, Groundsplitter spat a few chicken bones onto Raghilda's lap.

They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances for the Dragon Racing Cup. At nine o'clock, Gobber walked them back up to the mountain.

A large group of people was bunched around the notice-board when they returned to the Gryffindor common room.

"Berksmeade, next weekend!" Astrid said, craning over the heads to read the new notice. "What do you think?" she added quietly to Hiccup and Raghilda as they went to sit down.

"Well, Mildew hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes…" Hiccup said, even more quietly.

"Hiccup!" a voice in his right ear said. Hiccup started and looked around at Ragnar, who was sitting at the table right behind them and clearing a space in the wall of books that had been hiding him.

"Hiccup, if you go into Berksmeade again…I'll tell Phlegma about that map!" Ragnar said.

"Did you hear something, Raghilda?" Astrid said tersely, not looking at Ragnar.

"Astrid, how can you let him go with you? I mean it, I'll tell—"

"So now you’re trying to get Hiccup expelled!" Astrid hissed.

Ragnar was about to respond, but then Amber flew onto his lap. Ragnar glared at Astrid, gathered Amber up and hurried away towards the boys' dormitories.

"So how about it?" Astrid said to Hiccup, as though there had been no interruption. "Come on, last time we went you didn't see anything. You haven't even been inside Zonko's yet!"

Hiccup looked around to check that Ragnar was well out of earshot.

"Okay," he said. "But I'm taking the Invisibility Cape this time."

* * *

On Saturday morning, Hiccup packed his Invisibility Cape in his satchel, slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket and went down to breakfast with everyone else. Ragnar kept shooting suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided his eye, and was careful to let him see him and Raghilda walking towards the side doors that lead to the Entrance Hall as everyone else proceeded to the front doors.

"Bye!" Hiccup called to Astrid. "See you when you get back!"

Astrid grinned and winked.

Hiccup and Raghilda hurried up the third floor, Hiccup slipping the Marauder's Map out of his pocket. Crouching behind the one-eyed Valkyrie, he smoothed it out. A tiny dot was moving in their direction. Hiccup squinted at it. The minuscule writing next to it read " _Fishlegs Ingerman_ ".

Hiccup quickly pulled out his sword, muttered "Endeavour!" and shoved his satchel into the statue, but before he could climb in himself, Fishlegs came around the corner.

"Hiccup! Raghilda! I forgot you guys weren't going to Berksmeade either!"

"Hi, Fishlegs," Hiccup said, moving swiftly away from the statue and pushing the map into his fur vest. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Fishlegs shrugged. "Want a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Uh—not now—I was going to go to the library and do that dark-elf essay for Johann—"

"I'll come with you!" Fishlegs said brightly. "I haven't done it either!"

"Oh, uh—hang on—yeah, I forgot, I finished it last night!"

"Brilliant, you can help me!" Fishlegs said, his round face anxious. "I don't understand that thing about iron at all—do they have to be near it, or—"

Fishlegs broke off with a small gasp, looking over Hiccup's shoulder.

It was Asketill. Fishlegs took a quick step behind Raghilda.

"And what are you two doing here?" Asketill said, coming to a halt and looking from one to the other. "An odd place to meet—"

To Hiccup’s immense disquiet, Asketill's black eyes flickered to the doorways on either side of them, and then to the one-eyed Valkyrie.

"We're not "meeting here", Asketill," Raghilda said, surveying Asketill with clear disdain. "We just happened to cross paths here. It's called a coincidence."

"Indeed?" Asketill said. "Then I suggest the three of you return to the Gryffindor Common Room, where you belong."

Hiccup, Raghilda and Fishlegs set off without another word. As they turned the corner, Hiccup looked back. Asketill was running one of his hands over the one-eyed Valkyrie's head, examining it closely.

Hiccup managed to shake Fishlegs off at the Fat Valkyrie by telling him the password then pretending he'd left his dark-elf essay in the library and doubling back. Raghilda stayed behind, asking Fishlegs to teach her the rules of Exploding Snap, as she’d never played it before. It made Hiccup feel a bit better about abandoning the guy.

Once out of sight of the security trolls, Hiccup pulled out the map again and held it close to his nose.

The third-floor corridor seemed to be deserted. Hiccup scanned the map carefully and saw, with a leap of relief, that the tiny dot labelled "Asketill the Harsh" was now back in its house in the village.

He sprinted back to the one-eyed Valkyrie, opened her hump, heaved himself inside and slid down to meet his satchel at the bottom of the stone chute. He wiped the Marauder's Map blank again, and then set off at a run.

* * *

Hiccup, completely hidden beneath the Invisibility Cape, emerged into the sunlight outside Honeydukes and prodded Astrid in the back.

"It's me," he muttered.

"What kept you?" Astrid hissed. "Where’s Raghilda?"

"Asketill was hanging around…And Raghilda stayed behind with Fishlegs."

"Not surprised. She hates crowds."

They set off up the High Street.

"Where are you?" Astrid kept muttering out of the corner of her mouth. "Are you still there? This feels weird…"

They went to the Post Office; Astrid pretended to be checking the price of a Terrible Terror to Hakon in the Barbaric Archipelago so that Hiccup could have a good look around. The Terrible Terrors sat growling softly down at him, at least three hundred of them, all of whom had different colored scales.

Then they visited Zonko's, which was so packed with students Hiccup had to exercise great care not to tread on anyone and cause a panic. There were enough jokes and tricks to fulfil even Double and Trouble's wildest dreams; Hiccup gave Astrid whispered orders and passed her some gold from under the Cape. They left Zonko's with their money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccough Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap and a Nose-Biting Coffee Mug apiece.

The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like staying indoors, so they walked past the Green Dragon and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.

"Even the Berks ghosts avoid it," Astrid said, as they leaned on the fence, looking up at it. "I asked Nearly Headless Njorthr…he says he's heard a very rough crowd live here. No one can get in. Double and Trouble tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut…"

Hiccup, feeling hot from their climb, was just considering taking off the Cape for a few minutes, when they heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing towards the house from the other side of the hill; moments later, Snotlout had appeared, followed closely by Hjartan and Falskur was speaking.

"…Should have a Terrible Terror from dad any time now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm…about how I couldn't use it for three months…"

Hjartan and Falskur sniggered.

"I really wish I could hear that great pegged legged moron trying to defend himself…'There's no 'arm in 'im, 'onest—'…that Whispering Death is as good as dead—"

Snotlout caught sight of Astrid. A cocky grin appeared on his face.

"Hey, Darling," Snotlout said, sticking his chest out. "What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"

"That's none of your concern, Snotlout," Astrid said, crossing her arms.

Snotlout looked up at the crumbling house behind Astrid. The grin widened.

"Maybe you want to live here, away from your loser family? I heard your family all sleep in one room. Remember, if you just admit that they’re losers, you could come and stay with me."

Hiccup seized Astrid's arm to stop her leaping on Snotlout.

"Leave him to me," he hissed in Astrid's ear.

The opportunity was too good to miss. Hiccup crept silently around behind Snotlout, Hjartan and Falskur, bent down and scooped a large handful of mud out of the path.

"We were just discussing your friend Gobber," Snotlout said to Astrid. "Just trying to imagine what he's saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut that Whispering Death's—"

_SPLAT!_

Snotlout head jerked forwards as the mud hit him; his jet-black hair was suddenly dripping in muck.

"What the—?"

Astrid had to hold onto the fence to keep herself standing, she was laughing so hard. Snotlout, Hjartan and Falskur spun stupidly on the spot, staring wildly around, Snotlout trying to wipe his hair clean.

"What was that? Who did that?"

"Very haunted up here, isn't it?" Astrid said, with the air of one commenting on the weather.

Hjartan and Falskur were looking scared. Their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts. Snotlout was staring madly around at the deserted landscape.

Hiccup sneaked towards Hjartan and Falskur. Using some wind magic, he pulled Hjartan's trousers down, and while Hjartan bent down to pull them back up again, he shoved Falskur, sending them both tumbling into a puddle of foul-smelling, pus green sludge.

"Something is over there!" Snotlout exclaimed, wiping his face, and staring at a spot some six feet to the left of Hiccup.

Hjartan got up and hobbled along, with his trousers still around his ankles, his arms outstretched like zombie. Hiccup dodged around him, picked up a stick, and lobbed it at Hjartan's back. Hiccup doubled up with silent laughter as Hjartan did a kind of pirouette in mid air, trying to see who had thrown it. As Astrid was the only person Hjartan could see, it was Astrid he charged towards, but Hiccup stuck out his leg. Hjartan stumbled—and his huge, flat foot caught the hem of Hiccup's Cape. Hiccup felt a great tug, and then the Cape slid off his face.

For a split second, Snotlout stared at him.

"AAARGH!" he screamed, pointing at Hiccup's head. Then he turned tail and ran, at breakneck speed, back down the hill, Hjartan, who still hadn't pulled his trousers up, and Falskur not far behind him.

Hiccup tugged the Cape up again, but the damage was done.

"Hiccup!" Astrid said, stumbling forward and staring hopelessly at the point where Hiccup had disappeared. "Run for it, Hiccup! If Snotlout yells anyone—you'd better get back to the island, quick—"

"See you later," said Hiccup, and without another word, he tore back down the path towards Berksmeade.

Would Snotlout believe what he had seen? Would anyone believe Snotlout? Nobody knew about the Invisibility Cape—nobody except Alvis. Hiccup's stomach turned over—Alvis would know exactly what had happened, if Snotlout said anything—

Back into Honeydukes, back down the cellar steps, across the stone floor, through the trapdoor—Hiccup pulled off the Cape, tucked it under his arm, and ran, flat out, along the passage…

Snotlout would get back first…how long would it take him to find a teacher? Panting heavily, a sharp pain in his side, Hiccup didn't slow down until he reached the stone slide. He would have to leave the Cape where it was, it was too much a giveaway if Snotlout had tipped off a teacher. He hid it in a shadowy corner, and then started to climb, fast as he could, his sweaty hands slipped on the sides of the chute. He reached the inside of the Valkyrie's hump, tapped it with his sword, stuck his head through and hoisted himself out; the hump closed, and just as Hiccup jumped out from behind the statue, he heard quick footsteps approaching.

It was Asketill. He approached Hiccup at a swift walk, his black cape swishing, then stopped in front of him.

"So," he said.

There was a look of suppressed triumph about him. Hiccup tried to look innocent, all too aware of his sweaty face and his muddy hands, which he quickly hid in his pockets.

"Come with me, Haddock," Asketill said.

Hiccup followed him downstairs, trying to wipe his hands clean on the inside of his fur vest without Asketill noticing. They walked through the Entrance Hall, through the doors of the Great Hall and down the steps towards the village.

Hiccup knew they were heading to Asketill’s house. He had been in there once before, and he had been in very serious trouble then, too. As they entered, Hiccup noticed that Asketill had acquired a few more horrible slimy things in jars since last time, all standing on shelves behind his desk, glinting in the firelight and adding to the threatening atmosphere.

"Sit," Asketill ordered.

Hiccup sat. Asketill, however, remained standing.

"Mr. Jorgenson has just been to see me with a strange story, Haddock," Asketill said.

Hiccup didn’t say anything.

"He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Miss Hofferson—apparently alone, simply looking at the shack."

Still, Hiccup didn’t speak.

"Mr Jorgenson states that he was standing, talking to Miss Hofferson, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head. How do you think that could have happened?"

Hiccup tried to look mildly surprised.

"I don't know, sir."

Asketill’s eyes were boring in Hiccup's. It was exactly like trying to stare out a dragon. Hiccup tried hard not to blink.

"Mr Jorgenson then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Haddock?"

"No," Hiccup said, now trying to sound innocently curious.

"It was your head, Haddock. Your head was floating in mid-air."

There was a long silence.

"Maybe he'd better go to Bergljot," Hiccup said. "If he's seeing things like—"

"What would your head have been doing in Berksmeade, Haddock?" said Asketill softly. "Your head is not allowed in Berksmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Berksmeade."

"I know that," said Hiccup, striving to keep his face free of guilt or fear. "It sounds like Snotlout's having hallucinations—"

"Jorgenson is not having hallucinations," snarled Asketill, and he bent down, a hand on each arm of Hiccup's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart. "If your head was in Berksmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I've been up in the Gryffindor Common Room," Hiccup said. "Like you told—"

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"Hello, Asketill."

Hiccup and Asketill both jumped and looked towards the door. Raghilda was there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. The disdain that had been there before was back in full force, so strong that Hiccup could almost feel it.

"How did you find my home?" Asketill snarled.

"I followed Hiccup’s aura," Raghilda replied. "And I can assure you, Asketill, that I have been with Hiccup all day."

Hiccup felt a rush of admiration for Raghilda. He knew the girl had never lied before, and indeed seemed to dislike the concept of lying altogether, but here she was, lying to save him.

Asketill sneered. "And would you swear upon your magic that that is the truth?"

"I swear upon my magic, I was with him all day."

She then proceeded to morph into her animagus form and back again.

What the Helheim? Raghilda was telling the truth, but she couldn’t have been, unless…

She caught his eye and winked, placing a hand against her marking.

She had known this would happen. She had been following him (presumably in her animagus form) so that she could serve as his alibi, telling a half truth.

Because she _had_ been with him. Asketill just never thought to ask where _she_ had been.

Hiccup had to admit, he was rather impressed.

Asketill’s uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

"Turn out your pockets, Haddock!" he spat suddenly.

Hiccup blinked. So did Raghilda, before her face shifted back into a neutral expression.

"Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the Headmaster! Pull them out, Haddock!"

Cold with dread, Hiccup slowly pulled out the bag of Zonko's tricks and the Marauder's Map.

Asketill picked up the Zonko's bag.

"Astrid gave them to me," Hiccup said, praying he'd get a chance to tip Astrid off before Asketill saw her. "She—she brought them back from Berksmeade last time—"

"And you've been carrying them round ever since? How very touching…and what is this?"

Asketill had picked up the map. Hiccup tried with all his might to keep his face as impassive as Raghilda’s.

"Spare bit of parchment," he shrugged.

Asketill turned it over, his eyes on Hiccup.

"Surely you don't need such a very _old_ piece of parchment?" he said. "Why don't I just—throw this away?"

His hand moved toward the fire.

"No!" Hiccup said quickly.

"So!" Asketill said, his long nostrils quivering. "Is this another treasured gift from Miss Hofferson? Or is it—something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or—instructions to get into Berksmeade without passing the Dementors?"

Raghilda raised an eyebrow. "Asketill, are you aware of just how fucking desperate you sound?"

"Quiet," he barked at her. "Let me see, let me see…" he muttered, pulling out his axe and smoothing the map out on his desk. "Reveal your secret!" he said, touching the axe to the parchment.

Nothing happened. Hiccup clenched his hands to stop them shaking.

"Show yourself!" Asketill said, tapping the map sharply.

It stayed blank. Hiccup was taking deep, calming breaths.

"Shall we sit here and wait for it to do a trick?" Raghilda asked.

"Asketill the Harsh, master of this academy, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Asketill said, hitting the map with the flat side of his axe.

As though an invisible hand was writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

" _Mr Moony presents his compliments to Asketill the Harsh, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people business_."

Asketill froze. Raghilda clamped a hand over her mouth, trying in vain to muffle the snort of laughter that had escaped her. Hiccup stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn't stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.

" _Mr Fangs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Asketill the Harsh is an ugly oaf_."

It would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. And there was more…

" _Mr Forge would like to know who Asketill the Harsh thinks he’s fooling, saying he is a master of an academy_."

Hiccup gulped as more appeared…

" _Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever had such a title, and apologise to anyone who has ever had it before_."

Behind him, Raghilda let out a strangled laugh. Hiccup closed his eyes in horror. When he'd opened them, the map had its last word.

" _Mr Wormtail bids Asketill the Harsh good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball_."

Hiccup waited for the blow to fall.

Asketill strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powered from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames.

"Johann!" he called into the fire. "I want a word!"

Utterly bewildered, Hiccup stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Johann was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby clothes.

"You called, Asketill?" Johann said mildly.

"I certainly did," Asketill said, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. "I have just asked Haddock to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

Asketill pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Forge and Fangs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Johann's face.

"Well?" Asketill said sharply.

Johann continued to stare at the map. Hiccup had the impression that the man was doing some very quick thinking.

" _Well?_ " Asketill said again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Johann. Where do you imagine Haddock got such a thing?"

"Dark magic," Raghilda said. "Sweet Valhalla, dark magic’s gone downhill these last twelve years."

Johann looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Hiccup's direction, warned him not to interrupt.

"I’m afraid I have to agree with Raghilda on this one," he said mildly. "It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who tries to read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Hiccup got it from a joke-shop—"

"Indeed?" Asketill said. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. "You think a joke-shop could supply him such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufactures_?"

Hiccup didn't have a clue what the Helheim Asketill was talking about. Nor, apparently, did Johann.

"You mean, from Mr Wormtail or one of these people?" he said. "Hiccup, do you know any of these men?"

"No," Hiccup said quickly.

"You see, Asketill?" Johann said, turning back to Asketill. "It looks like a Zonko product to me—"

Right on cue, Astrid came bursting into the house. She was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Asketill’s desk, clutching the stitch in her chest and trying to speak.

"I—gave—Hiccup—that—stuff," she choked. "Bought—it—in Berksmeade—ages—ago…"

"Easy there, chickadee," Raghilda said, stepping forward and rubbing Astrid’s back. "Don’t overexert yourself."

"How did you get here?" Asketill hissed.

Astrid took several gulping breaths before responding. "Raghilda—contacted me—Völva, remember?"

"Seeing the future has some benefits, you know," Raghilda added.

In reality, Hiccup was willing to bet money that Raghilda had told Astrid where to come as soon as he had run off.

"Well!" Johann said, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Asketill, I'll take this back, shall I?" He folded the map and tucked it inside his jacket. "Hiccup, Astrid, come with me, I need a word about my dark-elf essay. Excuse me, Asketill."

Hiccup didn't dare look at Asketill as they left his office. He, Astrid, Raghilda and Johann walked all the way to the doors of the Great Hall before speaking. Then Hiccup turned to Johann.

"Sir, I—"

"I don't want to hear explanations," Johann said shortly. He glanced around and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mildew many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said, as Hiccup and Astrid looked amazed. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, _astounded_ that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the fort lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Hiccup."

Hiccup had expected that, and was too keen for explanations to protest.

"Why did Asketill think I'd got it from the manufacturers?"

"Because…" Johann hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of the academy. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you _know_ them?" Hiccup said, impressed.

"We've met," he said shortly. He was looking at Hiccup more seriously than ever before.

"Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Hiccup. I cannot make you take Alvin the Treacherous seriously. But I would have thought that what you heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Hiccup. Gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks is a very poor way to repay them."

Raghilda scowled. "And twiddling his thumbs doing nothing is better? Excuse me, I thought you _knew_ my Uncle Stoick."

Johann stared at her in surprise, but he didn’t say anything. He walked away, leaving Hiccup feeling worse by far than he had at any point in Asketill’s office. Slowly, he and the girls entered the Great Hall, went through the door into the Entrance Hall and mounted the marble staircase. As Hiccup passed the one-eyed Valkyrie, he remembered the Invisibility Cape—it was still down there, but he didn't dare go and get it.

"Good call, Raggy," Astrid said suddenly. "I didn’t think we’d be able to pull that off."

"Neither did I, to be honest," Raghilda replied. "Shame about the map, but at least we’re not—"

She broke off; they had reached the corridor where the security trolls were pacing, and Ragnar was walking towards them, Heather right at his heels. One look at their faces convinced Hiccup that they had heard what had happened. His heart plummeted—had they told Phlegma?

"Come to have a good gloat, Ragnar?" Astrid said savagely, as the two stopped in front of them. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"

"No," Ragnar said. He was holding a letter in his hands, and his face looked so grim you’d think someone had just died. "I just thought you ought to know…Gobber lost his case. Groundsplitter is going to be executed."

* * *

**Dun Dun DUN!**

**Highlight of chapter: The shenanigans up at the Shrieking Shack (My actual highlight is something else, but it's a spoiler, so the runner-up got the spot instead)**

**I'm not sure I like the new title, but it was all I could think of. Please send alternative ideas if you have any!**

**Any suggestions for what I should do in future chapters/books? Feel free to let me know; I'll probably use it. Credit is always given.**

**Well, that's all for now. See you guys next Monday!**


	16. The Dragon Racing Final

**Shout-out to Gamer Spice and Lord_Dominator for pointing out spelling errors in the last chapter. I feel a little embarrassed that those things made it into the final draft.**

* * *

_Chapter Sixteen: The Dragon Racing Final_

* * *

"H-he sent me this," Ragnar said, holding out the letter.

Hiccup took it. The parchment was damp, and enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was difficult to read.

_Dear Ragnar,_

_We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Berk._

_Excitation date to be fixed._

_Groundsplitter has enjoyed London._

_I won't forget all the help you gave me._

_—Gobber_

"They can't do this," Hiccup said. "They can't. Groundsplitter isn't dangerous."

"Snotlout's dad's frightened the Committee into it," Ragnar said angrily. "You know what he's like."

Heather nodded. "There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope…nothing will have changed."

Raghilda let out a piteous moan and swayed on the spot.

"Yeah, it will," Astrid said fiercely, wrapping an arm around Raghilda to keep the smaller girl steady. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Rag. I'll help."

Heather cleared her throat and nudged Ragnar’s back.

"Astrid, I'm really sorry about Scabbard…" Ragnar said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh—well—he was old," Astrid said awkwardly. "And you never know; Mum and Dad might get me a Terrible Terror now."

* * *

The safety measures imposed on the students since Alvin's second break-in made it impossible for Hiccup, Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda to go visit Gobber in the evenings. Their only chance of talking to him was during their Forging lessons.

He seemed numb with shock at the verdict.

"I just stood there telling them the stuff yeh told me Ragnar, telling them that Groundsplitter was a good dragon, that Snotlout provoked him. An' then Spitelout got up, an' yeh can imagine _he_ had to say; that Groundsplitter was a dangerous and deadly creature, who would kill yeh as soon as he looked at yeh. The Committers jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em…"

"There has to be something we can do to change their minds," Raghilda said quietly, fiddling with the clasp of her shawl.

"There's still the appeal!" Astrid said fiercely. "Don't give up yet, we're working on it!"

They were walking back up to the mountain with the rest of the class. Ahead they could see Snotlout, who was walking with Hjartán and Falskur, and kept looking back, laughing derisively.

"'S' no good, Astrid," Gobber said sadly as they reached the mountain steps. "That Committee is in the palm of Spitelout's hand. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Groundsplitter's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that…"

Gobber turned round and hurried back towards his workshop, clearly trying not to break down and cry.

"Look at him blubber!"

Snotlout, Hjartán and Falskur had been standing just inside the mountain doors, listening.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" Snotlout sneered. "And he's supposed to be our teacher! What a—AH!"

Before Hiccup could even register what was happening, Raghilda had lurched forward and punched Snotlout in the face, so hard that his nose broke with a sickening crack.

"Raghilda!" Astrid gasped.

Raghilda stood over Snotlout’s trembling form, hands in fists and face bright red as she hollered. "DON’T YEH _DARE_ CALL HIM PATHETIC, YEH FESTERIN’ PILE O’ SHIT—"

Hiccup had never noticed that Raghilda had a scottish accent before; apparently, it only came out when she was pissed off. Like now.

"My face!" Snotlout cried. "My beautiful face!"

"YER LUCKY ALL I HIT WAS YER FACE!" Raghilda bellowed in reply. "I SWEAR, IF MEH FATHER HADN’T RAISED ME TEH KNOW BETTER, YEH’D BE DEAD!"

Snotlout got up and placed both his hands over his bleeding nose. One look at Raghilda, whose scarlet face could’ve scared the gods themselves, and he ran. Hjartan and Falskur followed him down to the village towards the Infirmary.

Raghilda spun on her heel and glared at Hiccup, who instantly took a step back. "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, you had better beat that twat in the Dragon Racing Final or so help me I will personally drown you in the fucking lake!"

"Yes, ma'am," Hiccup said weakly.

She nodded her approval, and taking a deep breath, she looked at the running form of Snotlout and smiled. "That felt…surprisingly cathartic. I can see why you solve most of your problems with violence, Astrid."

"Ha-ha," the blonde deadpanned.

They hurried up the marble staircase towards Alvar the Charmer's Core Magic class.

After the lesson, which involved them mastering another Core Magic, Hiccup learning Wind Magic, Astrid Fire Magic, Ragnar Earth Magic and Raghilda Water Magic, they went to their next class, Soothsaying.

They reached the Mountain Peak, where they saw small bonfires, all of which had different colors. Hiccup, Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda sat down together near the one with crimson flames.

"I thought we weren't starting fire signs until next term," Astrid muttered, casting a wary eye around for Gothi, in case she appeared out of one of the fires.

"Don't complain, this means we've finished omens," Hiccup muttered back. "I was getting sick of seeing death omens everywhere."

"Welcome to my life," Raghilda deadpanned.

Astrid giggled. "Raggy, that’s not what he meant."

"Then he should have been more specific."

"Good say to you!" the familiar, misty voice said, and Gothi made her usual dramatic entrance out of her cabin. Agatha and Maria quivered with excitement, their faces lit by their turquoise flames.

"I have decided to introduce fire signs a little earlier than I originally planned," Gothi said, seating herself by an emerald green fire. "I have been infrmed that learning fire signs will lead to an important event, and I am anxious to give you all sufficient practice."

Ragnar snorted.

"Well, honestly…'I have this feeling'…who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!" he said, not troubling to keep his voice low.

Raghilda glared at him. "Ragnar, there is this wonderful thing called keeping an open mind. I think you ought to give it a try—preferably before I break your nose like I broke Snotlout’s."

It was hard to tell whether Gothi had heard them, as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not.

"Fire signs are a particularly refined art," she said. "I do not expect any of you—besides Raghilda, of course— to See when first you peer into the flames infinite depth. These enchanted flames have a special type of herb burning inside which will help you. But you will need to keep an open mind when you are gazing at the flames"—Raghilda mouthed "Told you so" to her brother—"so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will See before the end of the class."

And so they began. Hiccup, feeling extremely foolish, stared blankly at the flames, trying to keep his mind empty when thoughts such as "this is stupid" kept drifting across it. It didn't help that Ragnar kept tutting and the girls kept whispering to each other.

"Seen anything yet?" Hiccup asked them, after a quarter of an hour's quiet fire-gazing.

"Yeah, there's a burn on the floor," Astrid said, pointing. "Someone's been playing with fire."

"Raghilda?"

"I do, but it’s all stuff that I’ve already seen. For example, we’ll be having a practical exam in Combat Arts."

Astrid raised an eyebrow. "You predicted that like a week ago."

"Exactly. This is a rather delayed process."

"This is such a waste of time," Ragnar hissed. "I could be practicing something useful. I could have mastered Earth Magic—"

Gothi rustled past.

"Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shapes with their flames?" she murmured over the cracking of the flames.

"I don't need help," Hiccup whispered. "It's obvious what this means. Raven's Point is going to set ablaze tonight."

Both Astrid and Ragnar burst out laughing. Raghilda looked as though she was struggling to keep a straight face.

"Now, really!" Gothi said, as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Agatha and Maria were looking scandalized. "You are disturbing the class!" She approached their table and peered into their flames. Hiccup knew what was going to happen before Gothi gasped, as did Ragnar.

"Oh, here we go," Ragnar said.

"There is something here!" Gothi whispered, gazing into the flames. "Something moving…"

Hiccup was prepared to bet everything he owned, including his Firebolt, that it had something to do with a big, black dog.

"Let me guess…" Ragnar said loudly, "the ridiculous Signpost of Valhalla."

"Shut up!" Raghilda hissed, smacking his hand.

Gothi raised an eyebrow to Ragnar. Agatha whispered something to Maria, and they both glared at Ragnar.

"Raghilda, my dear," Gothi said, not taking her eyes off of Ragnar. "Could you look into the flames once more? From where I am standing?"

"Yes ma’am," Raghilda said. She stood up and moved to stand beside her mentor, peering closely at the flames.

"Do you see an omen, my dear?"

"I see…" her breath caught. "A black dog…It’s going towards something…it’s _chasing_ something…"

Gothi nodded, patting Raghilda on the small of her back. "Thank you, my dear."

Raghilda didn't respond. She was still watching the flames.

"She’s making it up," Ragnar grumbled. "She’s not really seeing anything."

Gothi frowned at Ragnar. "I understand that you do not believe in the art of Soothsaying, Ragnar. You are not the first, and I doubt you will be the last. I also understand that you do not know anything about Völvur, or else you would know that she is indeed telling the truth. But what I _don't_ understand is this—if you truly believe that my class is a waste of your time…why are you still here?"

There was a moment's silence. Then—

"Fine!" Ragnar exclaimed suddenly, getting up and cramming _Unfogging the Future_ back into his satchel. "Fine!" he repeated, swinging the satchel over his shoulder and almost knocking Raghilda to the floor. "I give up! I'm leaving!"

And to the whole class's amazement, Ragnar strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.

It took a few minutes for the class to settle down again. Gothi seemed to have forgotten that she was looking in Hiccup's fire a moment ago. She turned abruptly from Hiccup and the girls' table, breathing rather heavily.

"Ooooooh!" Agatha said suddenly, making everyone start. "Ooooooh, ma'am, I've just remembered! You saw him leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, ma'am? " _Around Thor's day_ o _ne of our number will leave us forever!_ " You said it _ages_ ago, ma'am!"

Gothi gave her a dewy smile.

"Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Mr Wicket would leave us. However, I am glad that he is alive; normally when I see the word _forever,_ it means death."

At the word "death", a strangled noise escaped Raghilda’s throat. She shook herself and sat back down, her face paler than usual.

Astrid looked at her, clearly worried. "You alright?"

Raghilda shrugged. "I’ve been worse."

Hiccup glanced into the flames, but saw nothing but the fire itself. Had Gothi and Raghilda _really_ seen the Signpost of Valhalla? Would he? The last thing he needed was another near-fatal accident, with the Dragon Racing final drawing ever nearer.

* * *

The Thor's Day holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third-years had never had so much homework. Fishlegs seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one.

"Call this a holiday!" Wartihog roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are _ages_ away, what're they playing at?"

But nobody had as much to do as Ragnar. Even without Soothsaying, he was taking more subjects than anybody else. He was usually the last to leave the common room at night, and the first to arrive at the library the next morning; he had shadows like Johann's under his eyes, and seemed constantly on edge.

Astrid had taken over responsibility for Groundsplitter's appeal. When she wasn't doing her own work, she was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like _The Handbook of Whispering Death Psychology_ and _Tooth and Spine? A Study of Whispering Death Brutality_. Raghilda had told Hiccup that the blonde had taken up almost permanent residence on the couch of their dormitory. She even forgot to be horrible to Amber, she  was so absorbed.

Hiccup, meanwhile, had to fit his homework in around Dragon Racing practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Eret. The Gryffindor—Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Thor's Day holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Eret constantly reminded the team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Hiccup, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

"So you can _only_ catch it if we're _more_ than fifty points up," Eret told Hiccup constantly. "Only if we're more than fifty points up, Hiccup, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, haven't you? You can only catch the Snitch if we're—"

"I KNOW, ERET!" Hiccup yelled.

Hiccup knew this all too well, which is why he'd been busy upgrading Toothless' prosthetic tailfin. He made a stronger connecting rod that would allow him and Toothless to turn sharper and quicker and created a new tailfin that was as thin as paper and stronger than before. He just hoped they would be enough to make a difference.

The whole Gryffindor house was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Dragon Racing Cup since the legendary Einar the Researcher (Astrid's second-oldest brother) had been Seeker. But Hiccup doubted whether any of them, even Eret, wanted to win as much as he did. The enmity between Hiccup and Snotlout was at its highest point ever. Snotlout was still smarting about the mud-throwing incident in Berksmeade, and even more furious that Hiccup had somehow wormed his way out of punishment. Hiccup hadn't forgotten Snotlout's attempt to sabotage him in the match against Ravenclaw, but it was the matter of Groundsplitter that made him most determined to best Snotlout in front of the entire academy.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their houses was at breaking-points. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth-year and a Slytherin sixth-year ended in the Infirmary with their hair smoking.

Hiccup was having a particularly bad time of it. He couldn't walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up.; Dogsbreath and Clueless kept popping up wherever he went, and slouching away disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people. Eret had given instructions that Hiccup should be accompanied everywhere, including in the bathroom, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. The whole Gryffindor house took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Hiccup to get to class on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd.

Personally, Hiccup felt the girls would’ve been more than enough protection; no one in their right mind would mess with Astrid, and word had spread about Raghilda breaking Snotlout’s nose, giving her a similar, albeit lesser reputation. He was more concerned for Toothless, who was guarded by Stormfly and the Gryffindor team’s dragons in case the Slytherins tried anything.

* * *

All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Ragnar had put down his books.

"I can't work, I can't concentrate," he said nervously.

There was a great deal of noise. Double and Trouble were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Eret was crouched over a model of a Dragon Racing stadium in the corner, prodding little figures across it with some Wind Magic and muttering to himself. Elfchild, Ashe and Kari were laughing at Double and Trouble's jokes. Hiccup was sitting with Ragnar and the girls, removed from the center of things, trying not to think about the next day, because every time he did, he had the horrible sensation that something very large was fighting to get out of his stomach.

"You're going to be fine," Ragnar told him, though he looked positively terrified.

"You've got a _Night Fury_ and a _Firebolt_!" Astrid said.

"Yeah…" Hiccup said, his stomach writhing.

Astrid turned to Raghilda, who was patching up a hole Amethyst had made in her nightgown. "Raggy, come on, tell him he’ll be fine."

Raghilda shook her head. "Astrid, you _know_ I’m not supposed to tell people how things such as sporting events play out…" Astrid gave her a pleading look, and she sighed. "Oh alright, alright, quit it with the puppy-dog eyes…Look, the most I can say is that he won’t be horribly injured. Anything else and I’m in for a whole ‘nother realm of trouble."

Ragnar snorted. "Yeah, that’s convenient."

"I was serious about breaking your nose, you know…"

Astrid raised an eyebrow. "Y’know, for a pacifist, you’ve been surprisingly violent lately."

"You’ve been a very bad influence."

"Eh, fair."

It came as a relief to Hiccup when Eret suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"

* * *

Hiccup slept badly. First he dreamed that he had overslept, and that Eret was yelling, "Where were you? We had to use Fishlegs instead!" Then he dreamed that Snotlout and the rest of the Slytherin team arrived for the match riding Red Deaths, dragons that were the size of a small mountain. He was flying at breakneck speed, trying to avoid a spurt of flames form Snotlout's steed's mouth, when he realized that he had been thrown out of his saddle. He fell through the air and woke with a start.

It was a few seconds before Hiccup remembered that the match hadn't taken place yet, that he was safe in bed and that the Slytherin team definitely wouldn't be allowed to play on Red Deaths. He was feeling very thirsty. As quietly as he could, he got out of his bed and went to get himself some water from the silver pitcher beneath the window.

The farms were still and quiet. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops of Raven's Point; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though conditions for the match would be perfect.

Hiccup set down his tankard and was about to turn back to his bed when something caught his eye. An animal of some kind was prowling across the silvery lawn.

It couldn't be the Signpost of Valhalla—not now—not right before the match—

He peered out at the grounds again and, after a minute's frantic searching, spotting it. It was skirting the edge of Raven's Point now…it wasn't the Signpost of Valhalla at all…it was a Terrible Terror…Hiccup clutched the window-ledge in relief as he recognized the colors. It was only Amber…

Or _was_ it? Hiccup squinted, pressing his nose flat against the glass. The dragon seemed to have come to a halt. Hiccup was sure he could see something else moving in the shadow of the trees, too.

And just then, it emerged: a gigantic, shaggy black dog, moving stealthily across the lawn. Amber flew over to its side. Hiccup stared. What did this mean? If the dragons could see the dog as well, how could it be an omen of Hiccup's death?

"Rag!" Hiccup hissed. He grabbed a hold of Ragnar’s arm and shook him as hard as he could. "Rag! Wake up!"

"Huh?"

"I need you to tell me if you can see something!"

"It's all dark," Ragnar muttered thickly. "What're you on about?"

"Down here—"

Hiccup looked quickly back out of the window.

The dog and the dragons had vanished. Hiccup climbed onto the window-sill to look right down into the shadows of the fort, but they weren't there. Where had they gone?

A loud snore told him Ragnar had fallen asleep again.

* * *

Hiccup and the rest of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall next day to enormous applause. Hiccup couldn't help grinning broadly as he saw that both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were clapping for them, too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as they passed. Hiccup noticed that Snotlout looked more grumpy than usual.

Eret spent the whole of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried them off to the stadium before anyone else had finished, so they could get an idea of the conditions. As they left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Hiccup!" Raghilda and Astrid called. They had painted intricate patterns on their faces with bright red face paint, and Astrid had tied Raghilda’s braids with scarlet ribbons.

"Okay…no wind to speak of…the sun's a bit bright, which could impair your vision, so watch out for it…"

Eret paced around the stadium, staring around with the team behind him. Finally they saw dragons flying over towards them.

The rest of the academy was coming.

"Changing rooms," Eret said tersely.

None of them spoke as they placed the scarlet face paint on their faces and painted their dragons. Hiccup wondered if they were feeling like he was: as though he's eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Eret was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go…"

They mounted their dragons and flew out into the stadium to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd were wearing scarlet face paint, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor Monstrous Nightmare upon them or brandishing banners with slogans such as "Go GRYFFINDOR!" and "NIGHTMARES FOR THE CUP!" Behind the Slytherin basket, however, two hundred people were wearing green face paint; the silver Hideous Zippleback of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Asketill sat in the very front row, wearing green face paint like everyone else, and a very nasty smile.

"And here are the Gryffindors!" Lock Jordson, who was acting as commentator as usual, yelled. "Haddock, Bellson, Jerkson, Spinson, Hofferson, Hofferson and Eretson and their dragons, Toothless, Boom, Fireworm, Gruff, Spike, Strike and Skullcrusher. Widely acknowledged as the best team Berk has seen in a good few years—"

Lock's comments were drowned by a tide of "boos" from the Slytherin end.

"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Dagur Owson. He's made some changes in the line-up, and seems to be going for size and power rather than skill and agility—"

More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Hiccup, however, thought Lock had a point. Snotlout was easily the smallest on the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous, and all their dragons, apart from Dagur's Skrill Deathwing, were built for power rather than speed.

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Flyheart said.

Dagur and Eret flew closer to one another and grasped each other's hands very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers.

"On my count!" Madam Flyheart said. "Three… two… one…"

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen dragons went off in all directions. Hiccup felt his hair fly back off his forehead; his nerves left him in the thrill of the flight; he glanced around, saw Snotlout and Hookfang on his and Toothless tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch.

"And Gryffindor Elfchild Spinson has caught a Quaffle and heading straight for the Slytherin basket, looking good, Elfchild! Argh, no—the Quaffle intercepted by Asger Pucson, he and Fangcrusher are tearing up the stadium—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by Trouble Hofferson, Asger dropped the Quaffle, it's caught by Ashe Jerkson and Elfchild has got her hands on another Quaffle too, come on—oh Elfchild has gotten blasted by Dagur's Skrill, Deathwing, she's lost the Quaffle, bust she's all right. However, Ashe had swerved around Grath Montson— _duck, Ashe, that's a Bludger!_ —SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Ashe punched that air as she and Fireworm soared round the end of the stadium; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight—

"OUCH!"

Ashe was nearly thrown from Fireworm as Dagur fired a lightning blast at her.

"Sorry!" Dagur exclaimed as the crowd below booed. "Deathwing is hard to control sometimes!"

Next moment, Double Hofferson had chucked his Beater's club at the back of Dagur's head. Dagur's nose smashed into Deathwing's back and gave him a small electrical shock.

"That will do!" Madam Flyheart shrieked, zooming between them on her Timberjack, Stokehead. "Penalty to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty to Slytherin for deliberate damage to _their_ Chaser!"

"Come off it, Ma'am!" Double howled, but Madam Flyheart blew her whistle and two Quaffles flew into Elfchild and Dagur's hands. Then Elfchild flew over to the Slytherin baskets to take her penalty.

"Come on, Elfchild!" Lock yelled into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO IN GRYFFINDOR'S FAVOR!"

Hiccup turned Toothless sharply to watch Dagur, still twitching from his electrical shock, and Deathwing, fly towards to take the Slytherin penalty. Eret and Skullcrusher were hovering in front of the Gryffindor basket, his jaw clenched.

"Course, Eret's a superb Keeper!" Lock Jordson told the crowd, as Dagur waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass—very difficult indeed—YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

Relieved, Hiccup and Toothless zoomed away, gazing around for the Snitch, but still making sure he caught every work of Lock's commentary. It was essential that he hold Snotlout off the Snitch until Gryffindor was more than fifty points up…

"Gryffindor has possession, no, Slytherin now has possession—on!—Gryffindor back in possession and its Kari Bellson, Kari Bellson for Gryffindor with a Quaffle, she's streaking up the stadium—THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Grath had swerved in front of Kari, and instead of seizing the Quaffle, had grabbed her head. Gruff cartwheeled in the air; Kari managed to stay on him but dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Flyheart's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Grath and began shouting at him. A minute later, Kari had put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—"

"Jordson, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—!"

"I'm telling it like it is, ma'am!"

Hiccup felt a huge jolt of excitement. He had seen the Snitch—it was shimmering at the foot of the Gryffindor basket—but he mustn't catch it yet. And if Snotlout saw it…

Faking a look sudden concentration, Hiccup pulled on the stirrup and Toothless sped off towards the Slytherin end. It worked. Snotlout went haring after him, clearly thinking Hiccup had seen the Snitch there…

WHOOSH.

One of the Bludgers came streaking past Hiccup's right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Olin Derson. Next moment—

WHOOSH.

The second Bludger had almost grazed Hiccup's elbow. The other Beater, Loki Bolson, was closing in.

Hiccup had a fleeting glimpse of Olin and Loki zooming towards him, clubs raised—

"Okay, bud, let's do it!" Hiccup yelled.

Toothless nodded in response and spread his wings all the way out. Next moment Toothless was zooming towards Olin and Loki just managed to void Toothless banging into them, but now Hiccup and Toothless were behind them.

"Okay, bud, multiple blasts!"

Toothless then fired two plasma blasts straight at Olin and Loki. Loki was able to avoid it, but Olin fell off Blindshot, one half of a Hideous Zippleback, and fell into the water below.

"Hah haa!" Lock yelled, as Olin was helped out of the water by some Slytherin supporters. "Too bad for you, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Night Fury and its Firebolt saddle! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Ashe takes another Quaffle—Dagur alongside her—poke him in the eye, Ashe!—it was a joke, ma'am, _it was a joke_ —oh, no—Dagur in possession, Dagur flying towards the Gryffindor basket, come on, now, Eret, save—!"

But Dagur had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end and Lock swore so badly that Phlegma tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, ma'am, sorry! Won't happen again, promise! So, Gryffindor is in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor is possession of another Quaffle—"

It was turning into dirtiest match Hiccup had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead and that they had lost one of their Beaters, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Loki hit Elfchild with his club and tried to say he thought she was a Bludger. Trouble elbowed Loki in the face in retaliation. Madam Flyheart awarded both teams penalties, and Eret pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

The Snitch had disappeared again. Snotlout was still keeping close to Hiccup as he and Hookfang soared over the match, looking around for it—once Gryffindor were fifty points ahead…

Kari scored. Fifty-ten. Double and Trouble were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Loki took advantage of Double and Trouble's absence to aim a Bludger at Eret; it caught him in the stomach and he almost fell off if it wasn't for Skullcrusher keeping him balanced, Eret wrapped an arm around his stomach, completely winded.

Madam Flyheart was beside herself.

" _You do not attach the Keeper unless the Quaffle is within the scoring area_!" she shrieked at Loki. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And Ashe scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Double pelted a Bludger at Asger both throwing him into the water and knocking a Quaffle out of his hands; Elfchild seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal: seventy-ten.

The Gryffindor crowd below were screaming themselves hoarse—Gryffindor were sixty points in the lead, and if Hiccup caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. Hiccup could almost feel hundreds of eyes following him and Toothless as they soared around the stadium, high above the rest of the game, with Snotlout and Hookfang speeding along behind them.

And then he saw it. The Snitch was sparkling twenty feet above him.

Hiccup pulled on the stirrup and gave Toothless a burst of speed, the wind roaring in his ears; he stretched out his hand, but suddenly, Toothless was slowing down—

"Toothless! What’s the matter, bud?" he asked.

Then he looked around and was horrified. Snotlout had thrown himself forward, grabbing hold of Toothless' tail and Hookfang, who had bit down on his foot, was pulling them back.

"You—"

Hiccup was angry enough to hit Snotlout, but he couldn't reach, he knew that Toothless was angry as well, but was too busy flapping his wings trying to keep the aloft to do anything. Snotlout looked as if he was in pain, but his eyes were sparkling maliciously. He had achieved what he'd wanted—the Snitch had disappeared again.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Madam Flyheart was screeching, shooting up to where Snotlout was sliding back on Hookfang and his Nimbus Two Thousand and One saddle.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lock was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Phlegma's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING BASTARD—"

This time, though, Phlegma didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her fist in Snotlout's direction, and showing the entire academy how she had gotten the title "the Fierce". If she wasn't in the stands, Hiccup was sure that she'd probably have beaten him to death. So instead she was shouting furiously at him, and slamming her helmet on the bench she was sitting on.

Elfchild took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry that she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Snotlout's foul on Hiccup, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for basket—Grath scores—" Lock groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor…"

Hiccup was now marking Snotlout so closely their knees kept hitting each other. It was going to hurt a lot later, but Hiccup wasn't going to let Snotlout anywhere near the Snitch…

"Get out of it, Useless!" Snotlout yelled in frustration, as he tried to slam him with his mace, but Hiccup kept blocking his attacks with his own sword.

"Ashe Jerkson gets a Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Ashe, COME ON!"

Hiccup looked round. Every single Slytherin player apart from Snotlout, even the Slytherin Keeper, was streaking up the stadium towards Ashe—they were all going to block her—

Hiccup turned Toothless around and together they zoomed towards the Slytherins like a bullet.

"Toothless! Now!"

Toothless then fired a series of plasma blasts at the Slytherins and every one of them apart from Dagur got hit, and fell into the water below. This meant that Ashe had a clean run.

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! What an amazing piece of teamwork by Hiccup! Now, not only is Gryffindor ahead by sixty points, only two Slytherin are left!"

Toothless, who had almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in mid-air, spun around and zoomed back into the middle of the stadium.

And then he saw something to make his heart stand still. Snotlout was diving, a look of triumph on his face—there, a few feet above the water below, was a tiny, dark glimmer.

Hiccup urged Toothless downwards but Snotlout was miles ahead.

"Come on, bud! You can do it!" Hiccup urged Toothless.

_"I’m trying!"_

They were gaining on Snotlout…Hiccup flattened himself on Toothless' back as Dagur, who gave up chasing a Quaffle, began firing lighting blasts at them…he was at Snotlout's ankles…he was level—

Suddenly a lightning blast hit Snotlout, paralyzing him and making him start babbling like an idiot. This was Hiccup's chance; he took both hands off the saddles reins and—

"YES!"

He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Hiccup soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The tiny black ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

Then Eret was speeding towards him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Hiccup around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Hiccup felt two large thumps as Double and Trouble hit them; then Ashe, Elfchild and Kari’s voices, " _We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!_ " Tangled together in a many-armed hug, their dragon roaring so loudly that they could be heard from Asgard, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto their dragons and flying up towards them. Hands were raining down on their backs. Hiccup had a confused impression of noise and bodies pressing in on him. Then when they were on the pontoons he, and the rest of the team, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. Thrusting into the light, he saw Gobber, plastered with crimson face paint—"Yeh beat 'em Hiccup, yeh beat 'em! Yer parents would be so proud!" There was Askeladden, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Phlegma was sobbing harder than even Eret, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; and there, fighting their way towards Hiccup were Astrid, who looked as if she wanted to kiss him, Ragnar, who was speechless, and Raghilda, whose smile had finally reached her eyes. They simply beamed and cheered, as Hiccup was carried towards the main podium, where Alvis stood waiting with the enormous Dragon Racing Cup.

If only there had been a Dementor around…As a sobbing Eret passed Hiccup the Cup, as he lifted it into the air with a roar of triumph, Hiccup felt he could have produced the world's best Guardian.

* * *

**Hurrah!**

**Highlight of chapter: Raghilda snapping on Snotlout and breaking his nose. And revealing that she has a Scottish accent that most only notice when she's screaming. That was a lot of fun to write.**

**(I also love when Raghilda calls Astrid a bad influence and Astrid just says "Eh, fair")**

**Well, I've got a field trip in the morning, so that's all for now. Tune in next week, when I will be in...**

**IRELAND!**

**♣♥♣**


	17. Raghilda's Prediction

**Greetings from Dublin!**

**My laptop is currently dead, and I have no way of charging it, so I'm using an IPad. So uh, the format is gonna suck. A lot.**

**Sorry in advance.**

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen: Raghilda's Prediction_

* * *

Hiccup's euphoria at finally winning the Dragon Racing Cup lasted an entire week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling into the village and flopping down on the grass with several pints of cold yak milk, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watch Scauldrons and Seashockers swimming dreamily across the surface if the lake.

But they couldn't. The exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the mountain, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Double and Trouble had been spotted working; they were about to take their VALs (Viking Average Levels). Askeladden was getting ready to sit his AVALs (Advanced Viking Achievement Levels), the highest qualification Berk offered. As Askeladden hoped to enter the Dragon Ministry, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. In fact, the only person who seemed more anxious than Askeladden was Ragnar.

Hiccup and the girls had given up asking him how he was managing to attend several classes at once, but they couldn't restrain themselves when they saw the exam timetable he had drawn up for himself. The first column read:

**MONDAY**

9 o'clock, Arithmancy

9 o'clock, Transfiguration

Lunch

1 o'clock, Core Magic

1 o'clock, Ancient Runes

"Ragnar?" Astrid prodded cautiously, because Ragnar was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Uh—are you sure you've copied down these times right?"

"What?" Ragnar snapped, picking up the exam timetable and examining it. "Yes, of course I have."

"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit two exams at once?" Hiccup asked.

"No," Ragnar said shortly. "Have either of you seen my copy of _Numerology and Grammatical?_ "

"Oh, yeah, I think Raghilda borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," Astrid said quietly.

"Actually, I got a copy from the library, and while it was boring, it was to _study_ , not to sleep," Raghilda said, flipping through a large book she had covered with fabric. She then made a face. "Sweet Valhalla, that is _horrible_ …"

Astrid tired to peer into the book, but Raghilda held it close. "Trust me Chickadee, you don’t want to see that…"

Ragnar started shifting heaps of parchment around on his table, looking for the book. Just then, there was a rustle at the window and Sharpshot fluttered through it, a note wrapped around his leg.

"It's from Gobber," Hiccup said, ripping the note open. "Groundsplitter's appeal—it's set for the sixth."

"That's the day we finish our exams," Ragnar muttered, still looking everywhere for his Arithmancy book.

"And they're coming up here to do it," Hiccup said, still reading from the letter. "Someone from the Ministry and—and an executioner."

Ragnar looked up, startled.

"They're bringing the executioner to the appeal?! But that—that sounds as though they've already decided!"

"Yeah, it does," Hiccup said slowly.

"They can't!" Astrid howled. "I've spent _ages_ reading up stuff for him, they can't just ignore it all!"

But Hiccup had a horrible feeling that the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures had had its mind made up for it by Spitelout. Snotlout, who had been babbling since the freak lightning blast in the Dragon Racing final, seemed to regain some of his old swagger over the next few days. From sneering comments Hiccup overhead, Snotlout was certain Groundsplitter was going to be killed, and seemed thoroughly pleased with himself for bringing it about. It was all Hiccup could do to stop himself imitating Raghilda and hitting Snotlout in the face on these occasions, and he had a feeling that Ragnar was doing the same. And the worst thing of all was that they had no time or opportunity to go and see Gobber, because the strict new security measures had not been lifted, and Hiccup didn't dare retrieve his Invisibility Cape from below the one-eyed Valkyrie.

* * *

Exams week began, and an unnatural hush fell over the fort. The third-years emerged from Transfiguration at lunchtime on Monday limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they had been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise. Ragnar irritated the rest by fussing about how his tortoise had looked a little bit more like a turtle, which was the least of everyone else's worries.

"Mine was still had a spout for a tail, what a nightmare…"

"Were the tortoises _supposed_ to be breathing steam?"

"It still had a willow-patterned shell, d'you think that'll count against me?"

Then, after a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Core Magic exam. All in all Hiccup thought his Wind Magic was okay, even if the entire class were blown off their chairs (Raghilda insisted that this was a good thing). Astrid's Fire Magic was not as controlled as Hiccup and the examination had to be halted until the small fires were put out. Ragnar's Earth Magic proved to be more mastered than anyone else's seconded Core Magic, since he was able to cause an earthquake that shook the whole mountain at its base. And despite only having half of a year to practice, Raghilda had proven to be quite good at Water Magic, creating a distinctly humanoid figure and then turning it into ice. Alvar had been delighted.

"Imagine what you could’ve pulled off if you’d had as much time as everyone else!" He’d said to her. Raghilda had looked a little embarrassed, yet seemed rather pleased with herself for making Alvar proud.

After dinner, the students hurried back to their common rooms, not to relax, but to start revising for Forging, Potions and Astronomy.

Forging just proved to be Gobber examining everyone's project and mark on how well their finished product matched with their original design. Astrid’s project was, unsurprisingly, an axe. She had tried to shape the blade like a Deadly Nadder, but it looked more like a chicken with its feathers ruffled. Ragnar had just made a simple gauntlet with a slot for his crystal eye, though it was beautifully made. What Raghilda had made, no one was certain; she’d asked Gobber to view it in private. Gobber was very impressed with Hiccup's prosthetic tailfin after seeing it in action, and awarded him top marks, but it also gave him a chance to speak with him.

"Groundsplitter's gettin' a bit depressed," Gobber told him, bending down to pretend to exam the connecting rod. "Bin cooped up too long. But still…we'll know day after tomorrow—one way or the other."

They had Potions that afternoon, which was an unqualified disaster. Try as Hiccup might, he couldn't get his Confusing Concoction to thicken, and Asketill, standing watching with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a zero onto his notes before moving away (a victory he probably needed after being forced to grant Ragnar a passing grade).

Then came Astronomy at midnight, up onto the highest balcony on the mountain; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Hiccup scribbled everything Florean the Chilly had ever told him medieval witch hunts, and wishing he could have one of Florean's Choco-nut sundaes with him in the stifling classroom. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, outside on the farms under a baking hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with the backs of their necks sunburnt, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would be all over.

Their second-to-last exam, on Thursday morning, was Combat Arts, and to Ragnar’s annoyance, Raghilda’s prediction had come true; it was indeed a practical exam. Johann had compiled a sort of obstacle course in the arena, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, squish their way across a patch of marsh, ignoring the misleading directions from a Nokken, cross a series of potholes filled with Goblins, and then climb into an old trunk and battle a new Boggart.

"Excellent, Hiccup," Johann muttered, as Hiccup climbed out of the trunk, grinning. "Full marks."

Flushed with his success, Hiccup hung around to watch his friends. Ragnar did very well until he reached the Goblins; he was never good when it came to hand-to-hand fighting, and the lack of sleep did nothing to help. Hiccup could see Raghilda roll her eyes and mouth "I tried to warn him…"

Astrid did everything perfectly until she reached the Boggart. After a minute inside of the trunk, a heart-wrenching scream could be heard, one Hiccup hadn’t heard since the Troll incident in his first year.

"Astrid!" he and Ragnar cried.

From her side of the Arena, Raghilda lurched forward. She blazed through the course with an almost inhuman speed. Upon reaching the trunk, she yanked it open and clambered inside.

Hiccup and Ragnar barely had time to exchange mystified looks when the trunk opened again with a bang, and the girl reappeared. In her left hand was her shortsword, the purple crystal eye still glowing faintly. Her right arm was wrapped tight around Astrid, who was pale and shaking uncontrollably.

"Astrid!" Johann exclaimed, startled. "What's the matter? What did you see?"

Astrid shook her head, burying her face into Raghilda’s shoulder.

Raghilda, for her part, was doing her best to be comforting. "It’s alright, Astrid," she murmured. "What you saw in there’ll never happen, you know that. Take a deep breath…Good, now again…"

It took a little while to calm Astrid down. When at last she had regained a grip on herself, she, Raghilda, Hiccup and Ragnar went back to the mountain. Ragnar wanted to know what Astrid had seen, but an argument was averted by the sight that met them on top of the steps.

Fudge the Mighty, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cape, was standing there staring out at the village. He started at the sight of Hiccup.

"Hello, there, Hiccup!" he said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"

"Yes," Hiccup said. Ragnar and Astrid, not being on speaking terms with the Chief of the Dragon Ministry, hovered awkwardly in the background. Raghilda, on the other hand, pushed herself forward so that she was at his side.

"It’s a lovely day," Fudge said, casting an eye over the lake. "Pity…pity…"

He sighed deeply and looked down at Hiccup. If he noticed Raghilda, he certainly wasn’t showing it.

"I'm here on an unpleasant mission, Hiccup. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad Whispering Death. As I needed to visit Berk to check on the Alvin situation, I was asked to step in…"

"Does that mean the appeal's already happened?" Astrid interrupted sharply, stepping forward to stand at Hiccup’s other side.

"No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon," Fudge said, looking curiously from one girl to the other.

"Then you might not have to witness an execution at all!" Astrid said stoutly. "The Whispering Death might get off!"

"He ought to," Raghilda added. "Snotlout provoked him, and any dragon would have done the same in Groundsplitter’s place." Her gaze hardened. "But then, his actions towards Snotlout aren’t the _only_ reason the Ministry wants the dragon dead, right?"

Before Fudge could answer, two Vikings came through the mountain doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black moustache. Hiccup gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old Viking squinted towards Gobber's workshop and said in a feebler voice, "Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this…two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?"

Then Hiccup noticed that the black-moustached Viking had a massive double bladed axe was strapped to his back. He then pulled it out and began to run one broad thumb along the blade. Astrid opened her mouth to say something, but Ragnar nudged her hard in the ribs and jerked his head towards the Great Hall.

"Why'd you stop me?" Astrid said angrily, as they sat down for lunch. "Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't justice!"

"It's my father’s dragon they want dead; justice doesn’t mean a damn thing to them," Raghilda growled, anger practically wafting off of her.

"Don’t say that," Ragnar said, though he, too, looked very upset. "As long as Gobber keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Groundsplitter…"

But Hiccup could tell Ragnar didn't really believe what he was saying. All around them, people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of exams that afternoon, but Hiccup, Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda, lost in worry about Gobber and Groundsplitter, didn't join in.

Hiccup and the girls’ last exam was Soothsaying; Ragnar's, Muggle Studies. Raghilda had run off ahead of them during lunch, likely to go clear her head, so Ragnar left them on the first floor and Hiccup and Astrid proceeded all way up to the seventh, where many of their classmates were sitting on the spiral staircase to Gothi's hut, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute revision. Raghilda was nowhere to be seen.

"Gothi's seeing us all separately," Fishlegs informed them, as they went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of _Unfogging the Future_ open on his lap, and was once again looking over the pages devoted to fire-gazing. "Have either of you ever seen _anything_ in a bonfire?" he asked them unhappily.

"Nope," Astrid said, in an offhanded voice. She kept checking her watch; Hiccup knew that she was counting down the time until Groundsplitter's appeal started.

The queue of people shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, "What did she ask? Was it Okay?"

But they all refused to say.

"She says the fire sign's told her that, if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!" Fishlegs squeaked as he clambered back down the ladder towards Hiccup and Astrid, who had now reached the landing.

"He’ll probably have one anyways," Astrid muttered. "She just doesn’t want anyone to tell what they saw."

"I can’t say I blame her," Hiccup said. He looked at his own watch, which said that it was now two o'clock. "Wish she'd hurry up…"

Agatha came back down the ladder, practically glowing with pride.

"She says I've got all the makings of a true Seer," she informed Hiccup and Astrid. "I saw _loads_ of stuff…Stuff I’ll bet even _Raghilda_ never saw…well, good luck!"

She hurried off down the spiral staircase towards Maria.

"Astrid Hofferson," an unexpected voice called from over their heads.

Astrid nearly jumped out of her skin. "Raghilda?!"

The trapdoor lifted, and Raghilda’s face appeared. "You forgot that I was assisting Elder Gothi with the tests, didn’t you?"

Astrid looked embarrassed. "Uh…no…?"

Raghilda forced a smile. "Come on up, chickadee; Elder Gothi is waiting for you."

Astrid grimaced at Hiccup, and climbed the silver ladder out of sight. Hiccup was now the only person left to be tested. He settled himself on the floor with his back against the wall, listening to a fly buzzing in the sunny window, his mind across the village with Gobber.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Astrid's feet reappeared on the ladder.

"How'd it go?" Hiccup asked her, standing up.

"Not good," Astrid groaned. "I couldn't see a thing, so I made stuff up, kind of based it off of what Raghilda’s been mentioning to me. I don't think Gothi was convinced it came from me, though…"

"Meet you in the common room," Hiccup muttered, as Raghilda's voice called, "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!"

"Is my full name really necessary?" Hiccup asked as he climbed.

"Completely."

When he stepped onto the porch, a cold wind blew into his face and he could feel the sun’s rays hitting the back of his neck. Then he saw that Gothi and Raghilda were waiting for him, both seated before a bonfire with pure white flames. Raghilda had a swath of parchment on her lap, and a quill in her hand; Hiccup guessed that Gothi was having her write down all of the predictions.

"Good day, my dear," Gothi said softly. "If you would kindly gaze into the flames…take your time, now, no need for rush…then tell us what you see within it…"

Hiccup sat crossed legged and stared, stared as hard as he could, willing the flames to show him something other than just plain white flames, but nothing happened. The thought ‘this is stupid’ reappeared.

"Well?" Gothi prompted delicately. "What do you see?"

Even for Hiccup, the heat was overpowering, and his nostrils were stinging with smoke that poured out of the flames. He thought of what Astrid had just said, and decided to pretend.

"Uh—," he said, "a dark shape…um…"

"What does it resemble?" Gothi whispered. "Think, now…"

Hiccup cast his mind around and it landed on Groundsplitter.

"A Whispering Death," he said. It sounded more like a question.

Raghilda looked up. "Groundsplitter, perhaps?"

He could’ve kissed her.

"Yeah…yeah, that’s him…"

"Indeed!" Gothi whispered, as Raghilda scribbled on the parchment perched upon her knees. "My boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of Gobber's trouble with the Dragon Ministry! Look closer…does the poor dragon appear to…have its head?"

"Yes," Hiccup said firmly, when he saw Raghilda’s breath catch.

"Really," Gothi said, sounding surprised. "Tell me, do you see anything else?"

"No! It looks fine, it's—flying away…"

Gothi glanced at Raghilda, who nodded encouragingly. Hiccup suspected she was trying to convince the older woman to give him a passing grade.

"Well, dear, we'll just have to wait and see if your prediction comes true," Gothi said at last, waving her hand in a dismissive manner as Raghilda leapt to her feet and hurried to place the parchment on the table.

Relieved, Hiccup got up, picked up his satchel and turned to go, but before he had reached the trapdoor, a harsh voice spoke behind him.

" _It shall happen tonight._ "

Hiccup wheeled around. Raghilda was still standing beside the table, but she had gone completely rigid; her golden eyes were unfocused, and her face had twisted as though she was in the worst sort of pain.

"R-Raghilda?" Hiccup spluttered. "Gothi, what’s going on?!"

With surprising speed, the old woman lurched forward, and she began to push him away. "Get back!" she hissed. "She’s about to speak a prophecy, she needs space."

"But—"

"There’s nothing you can do to help her, lad."

Raghilda didn't seem to hear them. Her eyelids were fluttering rapidly, and she was beginning to sway. Hiccup fought against Gothi, trying to get closer. The white flames were dancing furiously, and his godsister looked as if she was about to faint and fall right into them—and then her face went slack, and she spoke again, in the same harsh, booming voice that was nothing like her own:

_"The Dragon Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight, the servant shall at last break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dragon Lord shall rise again with his servant's aid, stronger and more terrible than ever before. He shall seek vengeance on the boy of dragon’s soul. Tonight…before midnight…the servant…shall set out to rejoin…his master…_ "

Raghilda tensed, and then toppled over onto the ground. In a rush of wind, the flames sputtered and died.

Hiccup at last broke past Gothi and rushed to his godsister’s side. The moment he touched her, her head snapped up again, her golden eyes full of panic.

"No!" she cried, before bursting into tears.

Gothi pushed Hiccup away and pulled Raghilda to her feet. "Come now, Raghilda, it’s alright, up you get…we must inform the Headmaster of this at once…"

Raghilda didn't seem to have heard her. She was sagging against her mentor, sobbing, and saying "No, _no!_ " On an endless, heartbroken loop. Hiccup was filled with despair just looking at her.

Sighing, Gothi turned to Hiccup. "I suggest that you return to your common room and tell no one of this, Hiccup. That includes your friends."

With difficulty, Hiccup nodded. He was about to climb down the ladder, but he stopped and looked at Gothi one last time.

"Ma'am, what do you make of this?" he asked, having to raise his voice to be heard over Raghilda’s cries.

"To be honest…I'm not sure," Gothi said, rubbing her apprentice’s back in a soothing manner. "But I have a feeling that you, my boy, will face a trial that could start a chain of unfortunate events."

Raghilda’s sobs grew louder.

Hiccup climbed down the ladder, and within five minutes he had dashed past the security trolls outside the Gryffindor Common Room. People were striding past him in the opposite direction, laughing and joking, heading for the village and a bit of a long-awaited freedom; by the time he had reached the portrait hole and entered the common room, it was almost deserted. Over in a corner, however, sat Astrid and Ragnar, and both were looking miserable.

"What's the matter?" Hiccup asked.

"Groundsplitter lost," Astrid said weakly. "Gobber's just sent this."

Gobber's note read:

_I lost the appeal. They're going to execute him at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it._

_Gobber_

"We've got to go," Hiccup said at once. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset, though," Astrid said; she was staring out of the window in a dazed sort of way. "We'd never be allowed…specially you, Hiccup…"

Hiccup sank his head into his hands, thinking.

"If we only had the Invisibility Cape…"

"Where is it?" Ragnar asked.

Hiccup told him about leaving it in the passageway under the one-eyed Valkyrie.

"…if Asketill sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble," he finished.

"Yeah," Ragnar said slowly, getting to his feet. "If he sees _you_ …how do you open the Valkyrie's hump again?"

"You—you tap it and say, 'Endeavour'," Hiccup said "But—"

Ragnar didn't wait for the rest of his sentence; he strode across the room, pushed the Fat Valkyrie's portrait open and vanished from sight.

"He hasn't gone to get it?" Astrid said, staring after him.

"I think he has," Hiccup said.

He had. Ragnar returned a few minutes later, the Cape folded carefully under his shirt.

"Rag, I don't know what's got into you lately!" Astrid said, utterly astounded. "First you walked out of Gothi, and now you went to get the Cape—"

Ragnar just shrugged.

* * *

They went down to dinner with everybody else, but did not return to the Gryffindor Common Room afterwards. Hiccup had the Cape hidden down the front of his shirt; he had to keep his arms folded to hide the lump. They skulked in an empty chamber off the Entrance Hall, listening, until they were sure it was deserted. They heard a last pair of people hurrying across the hall, and a door slamming. Ragnar poked his head around the door.

"Okay," he whispered, "no one there—Cape on—"

Walking very close together so that nobody would see them, they crossed the Hall on tiptoe beneath the Cape, walked through the Great Hall and then walked down the stone front steps into the village. The sun was already sinking behind the Raven's Point, gilding the top branches of the trees.

They reached Gobber's workshop and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor.

"It's us," Hiccup hissed. "We're wearing the Invisibility Cape. Let us in and we can take it off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Gobber whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. They walked over to the table, where Raghilda was seated, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Raghilda?" Astrid said, as Hiccup pulled off the Cape. "Raggy, what happened?"

"Are you…crying?" Ragnar asked, visibly uncomfortable with the sight.

Raghilda looked up at him, allowing the still-visible tear tracks to speak for her.

"Raggy, what _happened_?" Astrid asked again, sitting beside her.

"I spoke a prophecy," Raghilda said, her voice breaking slightly.

Astrid looked horrified. "Oh gods. Did it…did it hurt?"

"Yes." Raghilda shuddered, and more tears began flowing. "In more ways than one."

Gobber reappeared. "Coffee, anyone?"

Raghilda shook her head, but Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar nodded.

"Where's Groundsplitter, Gobber?" Ragnar asked hesitantly.

"I—Raghilda and I took him outside," Gobber said, pulling out three mugs of coffee. "He's tethered outback, Grump's with him, tryin' to keep him company. Thought he oughta see the trees an'—an' smell fresh air—before—"

Gobber then slammed his good hand on the table. Coffee was spilt everywhere and the mugs shattered all over the floor.

"I'll do it, Uncle Gobber," Raghilda said quickly, jumping to her feet and hurrying over to clean up the mess. She was sniffling, and kept reaching up to wipe at her eyes, but she worked as diligently as ever.

"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Gobber?" Hiccup asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. "Alvis—"

"He's tried," Gobber said, "But he's got no power ter overrule the Committee. They're scared senseless…yeh know what Spitelout's like…threatened 'em, I expect…an' the executioner, Cutthroat the Bloody, he's an old pal o' Spitelout's…but it'll be quick an' clean, at least…an' I'll be beside him…"

Gobber swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the workshop, as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.

"Alvis's gonna come down while it—while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter—ter be with me. Great man, Alvis…"

"We'll stay with you, too, Gobber," Ragnar said, as his sister placed three new mugs on the table, already filled with steaming coffee.

"Yeh're ter go back up ter the mountain. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. Raghilda’s only here teh calm down after her vision, Gothi said it frightened her somethin’ awful…An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway; if Fudge an' Alvis catch yeh out without permission, Hiccup, yeh'll be in big trouble."

At that moment, Raghilda, who was holding a milk jar at the time, let out a horrified gasp.

"Astrid! I—Look here—it's _him!"_

Astrid stared at her.

"What are you talking about, Raggy?"

Raghilda lifted the milk jar and turned it upside-down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbard the rat came sliding out onto the table.

"What is he doing here?" Astrid asked, her eyes the size of dinner plates. She lurched forward, grabbed the struggling rat, and held him up to the light.

Scabbard looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Astrid's hands as though desperate to free himself from her clutches. Gobber looked at Scabbard with great curiosity, but before he could say anything, Hiccup felt a hard stone hit the back of his head.

"Ow!" he cried, and when he looked out of the window to who threw the stone he saw see a group of men walking down the mountain steps. "Gobber, they're here."

He was right. Alvis, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun, was in front. Next to him trotted Fudge the Mighty. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Cutthroat the Bloody.

"Yeh gotta go," Gobber said. Every inch of him was trembling. "They can’t find yeh here…go on, now…"

Astrid held Scabbard tightly in her hands and Ragnar picked up the Cape.

"I'll let yeh out the back way," Gobber whispered.

They followed him to his kitchen, where a door stood. Hiccup felt strangely unreal, and even more so when he saw Groundsplitter, with a sleeping Grump next to him. The Whispering Death was tethered by a large wood stake just a few yards away from Gobber's workshop. He turned his head from side to side nervously, as though he could sense danger.

"Get goin'," Gobber said.

But they didn't move.

"Gobber, we can't—"

"We'll tell them what really happened—"

"They can't kill him—"

"Go!" Gobber hissed. "It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

They had no choice. As Ragnar threw the Cape over Hiccup, Raghilda and Astrid, they heard voices at the front of the workshop. Gobber looked at the place where they had just vanished from sight.

"Go quick," he said hoarsely. "Don't listen…"

And he strode back into his workshop as someone knocked.

Slowly, in a kind of horrible trance, Hiccup, Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda set off silently around Gobber's workshop. As they reached the other side, they saw the four men entre inside.

"Please, let's hurry," Raghilda whispered desperately. "I can't stand it, not now, I can't bear it…"

They started up through the village towards the mountain. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.

Astrid stopped dead.

"Come on, Astrid," Ragnar began.

"It's the rat—he won't—stay put—"

Astrid bent over, trying to keep Scabbard in her hands, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Astrid's hand.

"I swear to Odin, if you don’t stop—" Astrid hissed.

They then heard men's voices.

"Oh, for the love of Thor, Astrid, move, they're going to do it!" Ragnar breathed.

"Okay—Stay _put_ —"

They walked forwards; Hiccup, like Ragnar, was trying not to listen to the rumble of voices behind them. Astrid stopped again.

"I can't hold him—He’s struggling too much—"

She stopped; all four of them saw Cutthroat walking to the side of Gobber's workshop. Their view of Groundsplitter was blocked by houses, but they saw Gobber and Alvis leading Grump inside the workshop, and Fudge and Committee member watching as Cutthroat raised his axe and swung it, and they heard the thud from where they were.

Groundsplitter was dead.

* * *

**This IPad hates me.**

**Highlight of chapter: Aftermath of the prophecy. Poor Raghilda...**

**Unless I can find a way to do it beforehand, I'll fix the chapter up as soon as I'm back home.**

**(Edit: fixed)**


	18. Rat, Dragon and Dog

**Alright, last chapter has been fixed. Hurray!**

**Last line of chapter seventeen: Groundsplitter was dead.**

**Well that'll make for a pleasant start.**

* * *

_Chapter Eighteen: Rat, Dragon and Dog_

* * *

Raghilda buried her head into Hiccup's shoulder and began to weep harder than ever.

"They did it!" she cried to Hiccup, who wrapped his arms around her. "I d-don't believe it—they did it!"

The four of them stood transfixed with horror under the Invisibility Cape. The very last rays of the setting sun were casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed village.

Astrid’s breathing had become shallow and uneven.

"How—could—they?" she choked. "How _could_ they?"

"Come on," Ragnar said; his teeth seemed to be chattering.

They set off back towards the mountain, walking slowly to keep themselves hidden under the Cape. Light was fading fast now. By the time they reached the stone steps, darkness was settling like a spell around them.

"Keep still," Astrid hissed, clamping her hand over the wiggling rat. "Stay still, you little—OUCH! _He bit me_!"

"Astrid, be quiet!" Ragnar whispered urgently. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute!"

"He won't—stay—still—"

Scabbard was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Astrid's grip.

"What's the _matter_ with him?" Ragnar hissed.

But Hiccup had just seen—slinking towards them, her body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness—Amber. Whether she could see them, or was following the sound of Scabbard’s squeaks, Hiccup couldn't tell.

"Amber!" Ragnar moaned. "No, go away, Amber! Go away!"

But the Terrible Terror was coming closer…

Astrid stared down at the Terrible Terror, her gaze surprisingly lacking any hostility. "Amber, it’s alright, see? I’ve got him—"

Scabbard seemed to disagree; he had slipped between Astrid's clutching fingers, hit the ground and scampered away. In one bound, Amber sprang after him, and before Hiccup or Ragnar could stop them, Astrid and Raghilda had thrown off the Invisibility Cape completely and pelted away into the darkness.

"Astrid!" Hiccup yelled. "Raghilda! Get back here!"

He and Ragnar looked at each other, and then followed at a sprint; it was impossible to run full out under the Cape; they pulled it off and it streamed behind them like a banner as they hurtled after the girls; they could hear their feet thundering along ahead, and Astrid’s shouts.

"Raghilda—No, Amber, your help is _not_ necessary—Raggy, _go_ —"

There was a loud thud.

"Ah-ha! You couldn’t avoid us forever, _Scabbard_!"

Hiccup and Ragnar almost tripped over their own feet; they skidded to a stop beside a grinning Astrid. She was a bit scratched up and sprawled onto the ground, but she was staring down at Scabbard, who was clasped tightly in her hands.

"Not getting away this time!" she lilted cheerfully.

Ragnar looked at her. "Where’s Raghilda? And why are you so joyful all of a sudden?"

"Doesn’t matter," Hiccup panted. "Raghilda’ll be fine; no one’s going to spot her animagus form in the dark. Astrid, come on—get back under the Cape—before someone spots us—"

All of a sudden, the soft pounding of gigantic paws reached their ears. Something was bounding towards them out of the dark—an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Hiccup reached for his sword, but too late—the dog had made an enormous leap and its front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backwards in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth—

But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Dazed, feeling as though his ribs had been broken, Hiccup tried to stand up; he could hear it growling as it skidded around for a new attack.

Astrid was on her feet. As the dog sprang back towards them, she pushed Hiccup down; the dog's jaws fastened instead around Astrid’s outstretched arm.

"OW!" she yelped.

Hiccup lunged at it and seized a handful of the brute's hair, but it shook him off—

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Hiccup so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Ragnar yelling with pain and fall, too.

Hiccup raised his hand out, blinking blood out of his eyes. Flames appeared in his palm and showed him a trunk of a thick tree; they had chased Scabbard into the shadow of the Whomping Willow, and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backwards and forwards to stop them from going any closer.

And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging Astrid backwards into a large gap in the roots—her eyes were open, staring directly at Hiccup as her head and torso slipped out of sight—

"ASTRID!" Hiccup shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and he was forced backwards again.

When he looked up, he saw that Astrid was gone.

"Hiccup—we've got to go for help—" Ragnar panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn't get an inch nearer to the tree-roots without being in range of the tree's blows.

"We don't have time!" Hiccup yelled, as he dodged one of the branches. "That thing was big enough to eat her!"

_"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"_

Amber flew past them. She dodged the battering branches with such elegance that it looked as if she was dancing. She then placed her claw upon a knot on the trunk.

Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook.

"Amber!" Ragnar gasped uncertainly. He then looked at Hiccup, speechless. "How did she know—?"

"She's friends with that dog," Hiccup said grimly. "I've seen them together. Come on—and get ready for anything—"

They covered the distance to the trunk in seconds, but before they had reached the gap in the roots, Amber had slid into it. Hiccup went next; he crawled forwards, headfirst, and slid down an earth slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Amber was a little way along, her eyes flashing in the light of the flames in Hiccup's hand. Seconds later, Ragnar slithered down beside him, with his new gauntlet around his right hand and his crystal eye imbedded in it.

"Where's Astrid?" he whispered.

"This way," Hiccup said, setting off, bent-backed, after Amber.

"Where does this tunnel come out?" Ragnar asked.

"I don't know…it's marked on the Marauder's Map, but Double and Trouble said no one's ever gotten into it. It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it ends up in Berksmeade," Hiccup said. "But there one thing I do know…it's that Gothi was right about confronting a huge, black dog."

"So when she saw it, she assumed that it was connected to the Signpost of Valhalla," Ragnar said.

"Yeah…but obviously that's not the case," Hiccup said. Then he thought about Raghilda’s prediction, about the look of utter despair on her face. "Guess Völvur aren’t frauds after all."

"No, it would seem not," Ragnar agreed. "But what would that dog want with Astrid if Gothi said it that dog was going to be _your_ first trail?"

"I don't know," Hiccup said worriedly, "but I don't want to wait and find out."

They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double; ahead of them, Amber's tail bobbed in and out of view. On and on went the passage; it felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes. All Hiccup could think of was Astrid, and what the enormous dog might be doing to her…he was drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running as fast as he could at a crouch…

And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Amber had gone. Instead, Hiccup could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

He and Ragnar paused, gasping for breath, edging forwards. Hiccup had pulled his sword out, and Ragnar was clutching his gauntlet tightly. Hiccup raised the flames in his hand to see what lay beyond.

It was a room—a very disordered, very dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all heavily boarded-up.

Hiccup glanced at Ragnar, who had paled considerably but nodded.

Hiccup pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. Ragnar suddenly grabbed Hiccup's arm. His widened eyes were travelling around the boarded windows.

"Hiccup," he whispered. "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."

Hiccup looked around. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely.

"Ghosts didn't do that," he said slowly.

At that moment, there was creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. Both of them looked up at the ceiling. Ragnar had released his arm, but still looked nervous.

Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide, shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs.

They reached the dark landing.

Hiccup extinguished the flames in his hand. Only one door was open. As they crept towards it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a soft, almost relieved sigh.

"It isn’t as bad as it looks, Astrid; Bergljot should be able to heal it in an instant. In the meantime, the potion will dull the pain."

It was Raghilda. She sounded a lot calmer than she’d been about ten minutes ago.

"Thank the gods—ow! _Fuck_!"

"Did he bite you again?"

No response; Hiccup assumed that Astrid had nodded. He felt confused. When did Raghilda get there? And why were they so calm? Had they overpowered the dog?

He and Ragnar exchanged a last look, a last nod.

Hiccup gripped his sword tightly and Ragnar raised his gauntlet and suddenly he created a sword made of light. Hiccup then realized that the sword was made from aura, but knew this wasn't the best time to ask how he did it. Taking a deep breath, he stuck his head inside.

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings laid Astrid, her braid undone and her leg stuck at a strange angle. Raghilda stood beside her, an empty vial in one hand and a swath of cloth in the other.

Astrid looked over at them, and her face paled the slightest bit. "Uh, Raghilda…"

Raghilda glanced over her shoulder. There was no shock in her eyes; if anything, she seemed to have been expecting them.

"Ah," she said simply. "Company."

The boys dashed inside.

"Astrid, are you okay?"

"Raghilda, how did you get here?"

"Where's the dog?"

"Wasn’t a dog," an unfamiliar voice croaked as the door slammed shut.

Hiccup and Ragnar wheeled around. There, standing in front of the door, was Alvin the Treacherous.

A mass of filthy, blackish-brown hair hung to his elbows. If his eyes hadn't been shining out of their deep, dark sockets, he might have been mistaken for a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a bittersweet grin; he was holding Astrid's axe in his gorilla-sized hand.

"I can’t honestly say I’m surprised, boys," he said hoarsely. His voice sounded as though he had long lost the habit of using it. "Stoick and I would have done the same when we were your age. Never would’ve thought to grab a teacher. I'm grateful…it will make everything just a little bit easier…"

The taunt rang in Hiccup's ears as though Alvin had bellowed it. A boiling hate erupted in his chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted to use his sword, not to defend himself, but to attack…to _kill_. Without knowing what he was doing, he started forwards, holding his sword tightly in his hand, but there was a sudden movement on either side of him, and two pairs of hands grabbed him and held him back.

"No, Hiccup!" Astrid said, looking quite firm, though the effort of standing up had drained her of still more color, and she swayed slightly as she spoke.

Ragnar, however, spoke to Alvin. "If you want to kill Hiccup, you'll—you'll have to kill me too!"

Alvin stared down at his son; one of his hands twitched ever so slightly. "Only one will die tonight, Ragnar, and it certainly won’t be you."

"Why's that?" Hiccup spat, trying to wrench himself free of Astrid and Raghilda. "You didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Savage, endangering your _daughter_ in the process…What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

Something flickered in Alvin's shadowed eyes.

"Hiccup," Raghilda whispered, "please, don’t upset him…you have no idea—"

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Hiccup roared, and with a huge effort he broke free of her and Astrid's restraint and lunged forwards—

Hiccup didn't care that he was skinny and thirteen, he didn't care that Alvin was a tall, fully grown man. All he wanted was him dead and so he held up his sword and slashed it at Alvin, who blocked it with Astrid's axe. Hiccup had to admit that even though he hadn't raised a weapon for twelve years, Alvin was good with a blade. He kept on blocking Hiccup's attacks. For some reason he didn't seem to want to fight back, but this mattered little to Hiccup; he just wanted to kill his parents’ betrayer.

"No," Alvin hissed. "Please—I've waited too long—"

"Then you'll have to wait a lot longer!" Hiccup yelled, and he kicked him in the stomach and did a leg sweep, knocking Alvin to the floor. He was about to deal the final blow, but—

"Argh!"

Amber had joined the fray; her fangs embedded into Hiccup's arm, making him drop his sword. Hiccup easily threw her off, but Amber now darted towards Hiccup's sword—

"NO YOU DON'T" Hiccup roared, and he aimed a kick at Amber that made the Terrible Terror leap aside; Hiccup snatched up his sword and turned—

"Get out of the way!" he shouted at the others.

Astrid didn't need telling twice; she crawled to the four-poster and collapsed onto it, panting, her white face now tinged with green, and both hands clutching her broken leg. Ragnar scrambled aside, picking up Astrid’s axe as he went.

Raghilda didn’t budge.

Alvin was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His chest, once large but now thin, rose and fell rapidly as he watched Hiccup walking slowly nearer, his sword pointing straight at Alvin's throat.

"Going to kill me, Hiccup?" he gasped.

Hiccup stopped right above him, his sword still pointing at Alvin's throat, looking down at him.

"You killed my parents," Hiccup said, his voice shaking slightly, but his sword hand quite steady.

Alvin stared up at him out of those sunken eyes.

"I don't deny that I played a role," he said, very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story—"

"The whole story?" Hiccup repeated; there was a furious pounding in his ear. "You sold them to Drago Bludvist; that's all I need to know!"

"You've got to listen to me," Alvin said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't…you don't understand…"

"I understand a lot better than you think," Hiccup said, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum…trying to stop Drago killing me…and you did that…you did it…"

He raised the sword; now was the moment to do it. Now was the moment to avenge his mother and father. He was going to kill Alvin. This was his chance…

But before he could, something streaked past him, pushing him several steps backwards; Raghilda had shoved her way in-between Alvin and Hiccup's sword, her arms and legs spreading out like an X.

"Stand aside, Raghilda," Hiccup growled, "I don’t want to hurt you."

Raghilda shook her head, a look of deadly seriousness on her pale face. "Not until you put down that sword."

Alvin stared up at his only daughter with clear horror. "Raghilda, please—"

"I’m not letting you die, Father," she said, a hint of steel in her voice as she glanced over her shoulder to stare at him. "After everything we’ve done to get you here, this is not how it ends. I won’t let it."

She looked back at Hiccup, and he knew from the look in her eyes that if he wanted to kill Alvin…Raghilda would have to die first.

His grip on the sword loosened. Once again, the image of Raghilda’s despaired face from earlier that day came back into focus. He couldn’t hurt her…could he?

While he was busy trying to figure out on what to do, a new sound could be heard. Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor—someone was moving downstairs.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Ragnar yelled suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE—ALVIN THE TREACHEROUS— _QUICK_!"

Alvin made a startled movement that almost sent a wide-eyed Raghilda tumbling to the floor; Hiccup tightened his grip on his sword— _Do it now_! A voice in his head bellowed—but his arm wouldn't obey, not while Raghilda was still in front of him—

The door of the room burst open in a shower of bright silvery light, and Hiccup wheeled around as Johann came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his dagger raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Astrid, lying on the bed, over Ragnar, standing against the wall, to Hiccup, standing there with his sword raised in the air, to Raghilda, standing in front of her father, and then to Alvin himself, crumpled and bleeding on the floor.

Before Hiccup knew it, Johann fired a silvery fireball at Hiccup, disarming his sword and then a gust of wind pulled his sword, Astrid's axe and Ragnar’s gauntlet behind him, hovering in mid-air. Raghilda took a shaky breath and moved to stand beside Astrid, looking oddly relieved.

Johann moved into the room, staring at Alvin. "Well, don’t you look a sorry state…"

Alvin grunted. "So would you if you had to tangle with Stoick and Valka's boy."

"Fair enough."

Hiccup stood there, feeling suddenly empty. He hadn't done it. His nerve had failed him. Alvin was going to be handed back to the Dementors.

"Where is he, Alvin?" Johann asked.

Hiccup looked quickly at Johann. He didn't understand what Johann meant. Who was Johann talking about? He turned to look at Alvin again.

Alvin's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand, and pointed straight at Astrid. Mystified, Hiccup glanced around at the girls, who pointedly avoided his gaze.

"But then…" Johann muttered, staring at Alvin so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "…why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless—" Johann's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Alvin, something none of the rest could see, "—unless _he_ was the one…unless you switched…without telling me?"

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Johann's face, Alvin nodded.

"Sir," Hiccup interrupted loudly, "what's going—?"

But he never finished the question, because what he saw made his voice die in his throat. Johann was lowering his dagger. Next moment, he walked to Alvin's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet and embraced Alvin like a brother.

Hiccup felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Ragnar screamed in rage.

Johann let go of Alvin and turned to him. Ragnar glared at Johann, clenching his fists. "You—you—"

"Ragnar—"

"—you and him!"

"Ragnar, please, calm down—"

"I was such an _idiot_!" Ragnar said in disbelief. "All this time, I've been covering up for you—"

"Not true," Raghilda put in calmly. "You were trying get Hiccup and Astrid to figure it out, said you thought it was _obvious._ "

Hiccup could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury.

"I trusted you," he shouted at Johann, his voice wavering out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," Johann said. "I haven't been Alvin's friend for over twelve years, but I am now…please, let me explain…"

"NO!" Ragnar yelled, "Hiccup, don't trust him, he's been helping Alvin get into the mountain, he wants you dead too— _he's a werewolf_!"

There was ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Johann, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Ragnar," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Alvin get into the mountain and I certainly don't want Hiccup dead…" An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf. How long have you known?"

"Ages," Ragnar growled. "Ever since I did Asketill’s essay…"

"He'll be delighted," Johann said coolly. "He assigned that essay in the hopes that someone would realize what my symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realized that I was always "ill" at the full moon? Was it that you learnt I use Moonlight Core Magic? Or did you realize that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"All three," Ragnar said, not lowering his gaze.

Johann forced a laugh.

"You're the smartest young Viking I've ever met, Ragnar," he said and looked at Alvin with the corner of his eye. "No doubt you get it from your mother's side."

"Pardon, who raised the world’s youngest animagus again?"

"I'm not," Ragnar growled. "If I'd been a bit smarter, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," Johann said. "At least, the staff does."

He sighed a little. "Some of the staff thought the Headmaster was crazy; he had quite the difficult job, convincing certain teachers that I was trustworthy—"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Hiccup yelled. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" He was pointing at Alvin, who had crossed to the four-poster bed and sunk onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand. Raghilda sat beside him, looking remarkably tiny, and Amber flew and perched on her shoulder.

"I have _not_ been helping Alvin," Johann said. "If you'll give me chance, I'll explain. Look—"

With a flick of his wrist, the weapons behind him returned to their owners; Hiccup caught his sword, stunned.

"There," Johann said, placing his dagger back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not…Raghilda…"

"Hiccup made an attempt on my father’s life; do you honestly think I’m going to put my weapon away any time soon?"

"I suppose not…Now, Hiccup, will you listen?"

Hiccup didn't know what to think. Was it a trick?

"If you haven't been helping him," he said, with a furious glance at Alvin, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," Johann said. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my house examining it—"

"You know how to work it?" Hiccup said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," Johann said, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped _write_ it. I'm Moony—that was my friends' nickname for me at the academy."

"You _wrote_ —?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Raghilda, Astrid and Ragnar might try and sneak out of the mountain to visit Gobber before Groundsplitter was executed."

Alvin cringed, looking as if he had been punched in the gut; if he hadn't killed his parents, Hiccup would have felt sorry for him.

Johann began pacing back and forth, staring at each of them in turn.

"You might have been wearing your father's old cape, Hiccup—"

"How d'you know about the Cape?"

"The number of times I saw Stoick disappearing under it…" Johann said, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cape you show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you, Astrid and Ragnar of you cross the village and enter Gobber's workshop. Twenty minutes later, you left Gobber, and set off back towards the mountain. But you were now accompanied by two other people."

"What?" Hiccup said. "No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Johann said, still pacing, and ignoring Hiccup's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" Hiccup said.

"I saw Raghilda running through the willow’s entrance…And then I saw another dot, moving past her and towards you, labelled Alvin the Trustworthy…even Alvin's old title showing was proof…I saw him collide with you, I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow after Raghilda—"

He stopped his pacing, his eyes landing on Astrid.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" Ragnar asked. "What's Scabbard got to do with it?"

"Everything," Astrid said quietly. "Here he is, Sir…"

She held him up for them all to see. Scabbard was still trying to wiggle free from her grip, but she had a firm hold on his bald tail. Amber stood up on Raghilda's shoulder and stared at the rat.

Johann moved closer to Astrid. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbard.

"What?" Ragnar said again, looking confused. "What on Midgard does Astrid’s _rat_ have to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Alvin croaked suddenly.

"What d'you mean—of course he's a rat—"

"No, he's not," Johann said quietly. "He's a Viking."

"An Animagus," Alvin said, "by the name of Savage the Sniveling."

* * *

**dun Dun DUN!!!**

**Highlight of chapter: ...Spoilers~**


	19. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Forge and Fangs

**Where we left off last chapter: "An Animagus...by the name of Savage the Sniveling."**

* * *

_Chapter Nineteen: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Forge and Fangs_

* * *

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in. Then Ragnar voiced what Hiccup was thinking.

"You're both insane."

"Savage the Sniveling is dead!" Hiccup said. "He killed him twelve years ago!"

He pointed at Alvin, whose face twitched convulsively.

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but cowardly little Savage got the better of me…we could rename him Savage the  _ Sneaky  _ if he wasn't so spineless…but he's not getting away from me this time…"

Scabbard started squealing like a piglet, trying desperately to escape Astrid’s ironclad grip.

"Alvin," Johann said, "please, be sensible—Ragnar and Hiccup need to understand—we've got to explain—"

"We can explain afterwards," Alvin snarled, staring at Scabbard. "I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…"

Raghilda placed a hand on his shoulder. "Father…They deserve to know the truth. We owe them that much."

Alvin turned to stare at her. After a moment or so, he sighed. "I…I suppose you’re right, Raghilda. As always."

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"You're mad, the three of you," Ragnar said shakily. "There was a whole  _ street _ full of witnesses who saw Savage die—"

"They didn't see what they thought they saw," Raghilda said evenly. "Only a fool counts someone dead before they see their body right in front of them, and a  _ finger _ doesn’t count. Besides, if you’ll recall, I was there too."

"Quite right," Johann said, nodding. "Everyone thought Alvin was to blame. I believed it myself—until I saw the map tonight. The Marauder's Map never lies…Savage's alive. Astrid's holding him, Hiccup."

Hiccup looked down at Astrid, but again she refused to look at him.

"I wanted to tell you," she croaked, sounding close to tears. "But Raghilda made me promise that I wouldn’t."

Hiccup could hardly believe it. The story made no sense whatsoever. How could Scabbard be Savage the Sniveling? Azkaban must have unhinged Alvin and Raghilda after all—but why were Johann and Astrid playing along? And why did Astrid sound so heartbroken about it?

Then Ragnar spoke again, this time in a calmer voice, as though trying to will Johann to see reason.

"Sir…how can Scabbard  _ possibly _ be Savage…it just can't be true, you know it can't…"

"Why can't it be true?" Johann said calmly, as though they were in class and Ragnar had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with the Grindylows.

"Because people would  _ know _ if Savage the Sniveling had been Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Phlegma the Fierce. And I looked them up when I did my homework—the Ministry keeps tabs on Viking and Valkyries who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their marking and things…and I went and looked Phlegma the Fierce up on the register, and there have only been seven Animagi this century, and Savage's name wasn't on the list—"

Hiccup barely had time to marvel inwardly at the effort Ragnar put into his homework, when Johann and Alvin started to laugh.

"I'll give you credit on doing your homework, son," Alvin chortled. Ragnar didn't look happy about Alvin calling him son. "But does it mention me on the list? Or your sister, for that matter?"

"Uh, no," Ragnar admitted with a side glance to Raghilda.

" _ Exactly _ ."

"You see, Ragnar, the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Berk," Johann explained.

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Johann," Alvin said, having returned to watching Scabbard’s every move. "I've waited twelve years; I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right, but you and Raghilda will have to help me," Johann said, "I only know how it began…"

Johann broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All six of them stared at it. Then Johann strode towards it and looked out into the landing.

"No one there…"

"This place  _ is _ haunted," Astrid said.

"It's not," Johann said, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never hunted…the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his greying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment, and then said, "That's where all of this starts—with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten…and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…"

He looked sober and tried. "I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Asketill the Harsh had been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform…I am able to curl up in my house, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I would become a fully-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Berk. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.

"But Alvis the Noble felt sympathy. He convinced Hiccup’s grandfather, the headmaster at the time, to let me come to the academy, as long as we took certain precautions…" Johann sighed, and looked directly at Hiccup. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Berk. The truth is that it was planted  _ because _ I had come to Berk. This house—" Johann looked miserably around the room, "—the tunnel that leads to it—they were both built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the mountain, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to prevent anyone from coming across me while I was dangerous."

Hiccup couldn't see where this story was going, but he was listening raptly all the same. The only sound apart from Johann's voice was Scabbard's frightened squeaking.

"My transformations in those days were—were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Alvis and Magnus encouraged the rumor…even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it…

"But apart from my transformation, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, four great friends. Alvin the Trustworthy…Savage the Sniveling…Gobber the Belch…and, of course, your father, Hiccup—Stoick the Vast.

"Now, my four friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her…I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Ragnar, worked out the truth…

"And to my surprise, they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became, apart from Gobber, Animagi."

"My dad, too?" Hiccup said, astounded.

"Yes, indeed," Johann said. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Alvin here were the cleverest students in the academy, besides Valka of course, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong—one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Savage needed all the help he could get from Stoick and Alvin. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" Ragnar asked, sounding puzzled. "And how did Gobber help you?"

"They couldn't help keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Johann. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the mountain…and Gobber, who had been expelled at the time, made sure the village was clear…we hide under Stoick's Invisibility Cape. They transformed…Savage, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind started to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Johann," Alvin snarled, still watching Scabbard with a horrible sort of hunger in his face.

"I'm getting there, Alvin, I'm getting there…well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming all over the academy, which was empty thanks to Gobber, and Berksmeade village by night. Alvin and Stoick transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Berk students ever found out more about the academy and Berksmeade than we did…And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Alvin is Padfoot. Savage is Wormtail. Gobber is Forge. Stoick was Fangs."

"What sort of animal—?" Hiccup began, but Ragnar cut across him.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that haunts me to this day," Johann said heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless—carried away with our own cleverness.

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Alvis’s trust, of course…he was the one that got me here, when no one else would, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew that I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally, or endangered Gobber to clear the village as we roamed around. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan out next month's adventure. And I haven't changed…"

Johann’s face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Alvis that Alvin was an Animagus. But I didn't do it, not even when Raghilda arrived. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at the academy, admitting that I'd led others along with me…and Alvis’s trust has meant everything to me and I'm sure Gobber feels the same way or he'd would have told Alvis years ago. Alvis helped me get into Berk as a boy, and he gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Alvin was getting into the academy using Dark Magic he learnt from Drago Bludvist, and that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it…Never mind that he’d clearly taught Raghilda the same skill…so, in a way, Asketill’s been right about me all along."

"Asketill?" Alvin said harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbard for the first time in minutes and looking up at Johann. "As in Asketill the Harsh?! What's Asketill got to do with it?"

"He's here, Father," Raghilda said heavily. "He's the current Potion’s teacher. And as awful as ever, in case you were wondering."

Johann looked up at the other three.

"Asketill was at the academy with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Combat Arts job. He has been telling Alvis all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons…you see, Alvin here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me—"

Alvin made a derisive noise.

"It served him tight," he sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to…hoping he could get us expelled…"

"Asketill was very interested in where I went every month," Johann told Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar. "We were in the same year, you know, and we—uh—didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked Stoick. Jealous, I think, of Stoick's talent on the Dragon Racing stadium…anyway Asketill had seen me crossing the village and into the farms with Eydis the Hard-working, the Herbology Master, one evening as she led me towards the Whomping Willow to transform. Alvin thought it would be—uh—amusing, to tell Asketill all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me."

"I didn't really think he’d do it!"

Johann gave him a look. "Well, of course, Asketill tried it—if he'd gotten as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf—but Gobber, who'd heard what Alvin had done, told your father, and your father went after Asketill and pulled him back, at great risk to his life, while Gobber went to inform Alvis, who was headmaster by then, of what had happened. You see Hiccup, no matter what Asketill thinks, your father never wanted him  _ dead _ , but Asketill couldn't let his grudge go once…Anyway, Asketill got a glimpse of me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anyone, but from that time on he knew that I was…"

"So that's why Asketill doesn't like you," Hiccup said slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"Indeed," Johann agreed. "He also wasn't too pleased that Stoick got an award for saving his life."

"That's right," a cold voice from the wall behind Johann sneered.

Asketill the Harsh was pulling off the Invisibility Cape, his axe pointing directly at Johann.

* * *

**Godsdamnit Asketill! Not now!**

**Highlight of chapter: This is going to sound incredibly cruel...but I really like how upset Astrid was. I'll explain why in a later chapter, but...yeah.**

**I'm not a sadist, I swear.**


	20. The Servant of Drago Bludvist

**Remember when I published the last chapter of Book One, and I was excited that we had reached 400 hits?**

**That same story is just 7 hits shy of 1000.**

***sniffles* I promised myself I wouldn't cry...**

**Ahem. Anyways...**

**We left off with the sudden, unfortunate entrance of Asketill the Harsh.**

**I'm sure this will end well for everyone involved.**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty: The Servant of Drago Bludvist_

* * *

Astrid and Raghilda snarled. Alvin leapt to his feet. Hiccup and Ragnar jumped as though they'd received a huge electric shock.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," Asketill said, throwing the Cape aside, careful to keep his axe pointed directly at Johann's chest. "Very useful, Haddock, I thank you…"

Asketill was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your house, Johann. You forgot to take your Potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did…lucky for _me_. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Asketill—" Johann began, but Asketill overrode him.

"I've told the Headmaster again and again that you've been helping your old friend Alvin into the mountain, Johann, and here's the proof. But not even _I_ dreamed you would have had the nerve to use this old place as your hideout—"

"Asketill, you're making a mistake," Johann said urgently. "You haven't heard everything—I can explain—Alvin is not here to kill Hiccup—"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," Asketill said, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. "I shall be interested to see how Alvis, Gobber and Phlegma take this…they were convinced that you were harmless, Johann…a _tame_ werewolf…"

Raghilda snarled again.

"Raghilda, don’t do anything rash," Johann said sternly. He looked back at Asketill. "Asketill, is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

_BANG!_

Thin, snake-like iron cords burst from the end of Asketill’s axe and twisted around Johann's mouth, wrists and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Alvin started towards Asketill, but Asketill pointed his axe at Alvin's throat.

"Give me a reason," he hissed. "Give me a reason to, and I swear I will do it."

Alvin stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred.

Hiccup stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do or who to believe. He glanced around at Raghilda, Astrid and Ragnar. The girls glared daggers at their teacher, Astrid still struggling to keep hold of the fighting Scabbard. Ragnar, however, looked like he was trying to hold back his own anger and said, in a fearless tone, "Sir, it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say…"

"Wicket, you are already facing suspension from this academy," Asketill spat. "You, Haddock, Miss Harkstow and Miss Hofferson are out of bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue_."

"I will not, _Sir_! And I still say—"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID BOY! Asketill shouted, suddenly looking as deranged as Dagur. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND!"

A few sparks shot out of the end of his axe, which was still pointing at Alvin's throat. But Alvin apparently had other priorities.

"Don't talk to my son that way," he growled at Asketill.

Asketill didn't appear to have heard him.

"Vengeance is very, very sweet," he breathed at Alvin. "How I prayed that I would be the one to catch you…"

"The joke’s on you again, Asketill," Alvin snarled. "As long as this girl brings her "rat" up to the mountain—" he jerked his head at Astrid, "—I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the mountain?" Asketill said silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. I daresay they'll be very pleased to see you, Alvin…pleased enough to give you a little kiss, even…"

Raghilda clamped her hands over her mouth, plainly horrified. What little color there was in Alvin's face left it instantly.

"You—you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat— _look at the rat_ —"

But there was a mad glint in Asketill’s eye that Hiccup had never seen before. He seemed far beyond reason.

"Come along, all of you," he said he clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Johann flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him, too—"

Before he knew what he was doing, Hiccup had crossed the room in three strides, and blocked the door.

"Get out of the way, Haddock, you're in enough trouble already," Asketill snarled. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin—"

"Johann could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Hiccup said. "I've been alone with him and Raghilda loads of times, having defense lessons against the Dementors. If they wanted me dead, why didn't they just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a Werewolf's mind works," Asketill hissed. "Get out of the way, Haddock."

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Hiccup yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT THE ACADEMY YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN—"

"I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Asketill shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Haddock! I’ve just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You’d have died like your father did, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Alvin! And that goes double for Wicket; no doubt he'll betray you, just like his murderous father! Perhaps he was in on it as well. His sister led you here, and he didn't stop you, did you think of that—now get out of the way, or I will _make_ you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, HADDOCK!"

Hiccup made up his mind in a split second. Before Asketill could take even one step towards, he had raised his sword in hopes to disarm him.

**_BANG!_ **

Asketill was forced back by a punch made of fire; however, fire wasn't the only thing that hit him. Two aura spheres, one green and one blazing gold, and a bolt of lightning had also hit him, and the combination of all four attacks knocked him with such force that Asketill was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor. His hair was singed, his face was covered in ash, and a trickle of blood was oozing from under his greasy hair. He had been knocked out.

Hiccup looked around. Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda had tried to disarm Asketill at exactly the same moment. Asketill’s axe soared in a high arc and imbedded itself in the floor.

"Oops," Hiccup said, wincing. He had only wanted to disarm Asketill in order to talk some sense in him.

"You shouldn't have done that," Alvin said, looking at Hiccup. "You should have left him to me…"

"That wouldn’t have exactly helped your case, sir," Astrid pointed out.

"Eh, fair enough."

"Oh gods… _we attacked a teacher_ ," Ragnar whispered, as though it had only just sunk in.

Raghilda nodded. "And he bloody deserved it."

Johann was struggling against his bonds. Alvin bent down and quickly untied him. Johann straightened up, rubbing his arms where the iron cords had cut into them.

"Thank you, Hiccup," he said.

"I still don't believe you," Hiccup retorted.

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," Alvin said. "Astrid—give me Savage."

"Hold on," Ragnar said; Raghilda shot him an exasperated look. "How's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban all these years?"

"You know, Alvin, that's a fair question," Johann said, turning to Alvin and frowning slightly. "How _did_ you find out where he was?"

Alvin put one of his claw-like hands inside his trouser pocket and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat, and held out to show the others.

It was the photograph of Astrid and her family that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ the previous summer, and there, on Astrid's shoulder, was Scabbard.

"How did you get this?" Johann asked Alvin, thunderstruck.

"Fudge," Alvin said. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Savage, right on the front page…on this girl's shoulder…it was like looking at Loki himself…I knew him at once…how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said that the girl would be going back to Berk…to where Hiccup was…"

"Gobber did act as if he recognized Scabbard and that was the first time he saw him," Hiccup said, thinking back at Gobber's workshop when Gobber saw Scabbard.

"Not surprising," Alvin said. "He knew all of our transformations by heart."

"Odin's beard," Johann said softly, staring from Scabbard to the picture in the paper and back again. "His front paw…"

"He's got a toe missing," Raghilda said to Hiccup and Ragnar.

"Of course," Johann breathed, "so simple…and yet so _brilliant_ …He cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," Alvin said. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Stoick and Valka. Then, before I could even lift my weapon, he blew apart the street with a combination of Gas and Fire magic behind his back, killing everyone within twenty feet of us—I only just managed to shield Raghilda from the blast—and he sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"

"Didn't you ever hear?" Johann asked Hiccup and Ragnar. "The biggest bit of Savage they found was his finger."

"Look, Scabbard probably had a fight with another rat or something! Astrid, come on, he's been in your family for about—"

"Twelve years," Astrid finished quietly. "A long lifespan for a common garden rat."

"You’ve—you’ve been taking good care of him!" Ragnar insisted.

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" Johann said. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Alvin was on the loose again…"

"I thought he was scared of a mad Terrible Terror," Astrid said, nodding towards Amber, who was still gazing at Scabbard on the bed.

But that wasn't right, Hiccup found himself thinking…Scabbard had been looking ill before he met Amber…ever since Astrid's return from the Barbaric Archipelago…since the time when Alvin and Raghilda had escaped…

"This Terrible Terror isn't mad," Alvin said hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Amber's scaly head. "She's the most intelligent of her kind I've ever met. She recognized me; she knew Raghilda and I were no mere dogs. It was a while before she trusted us. Finally, I managed to communicate to her what I was after, and she's been helping us ever since…"

"What do you mean?" Ragnar breathed.

"She tried to bring Savage to me, but couldn't…so she brought me the passwords into the Gryffindor Common Room…As I understand it, Raghilda took them from a boy's bedside table…"

Hiccup's brain seemed to be sagging under the weight of what he was hearing. It was absurd…and yet…

"However, Savage got wind of what was going on and ran for it…Raghilda told me that he had left blood on your bed sheets, son…I suppose he bit himself and placed a scale on the sheets…well, faking his own death worked once…"

These words jolted Hiccup to his senses.

"And why did he fake his death?" he said furiously. "Because he knew you were about to kill him, just like you killed my parents!"

"No," Johann said. "Hiccup—"

"And now you've come to finish him off!"

"Yes, I have," Alvin said, with an evil look at Scabbard.

"Then I should've let Asketill take you!" Hiccup shouted.

"Hiccup," Johann said hurriedly, "don't you see? All this time we've thought Alvin betrayed your parents, and Savage tracked him down—but it was the other way around, don't you see? _Savage_ betrayed your mother and father—Alvin tracked _Savage_ down—"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Hiccup yelled. "HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP, HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

He pointed at Alvin, who shook his head slowly; the sunken eyes were suddenly over-bright.

"Hiccup…I as good as killed them," he croaked. "I told Stoick and Valka to change to Savage at the last moment; persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me…I'm to blame, I know it…the night they died, when Raghilda and I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. But there was no sign of a struggle. He wasn’t supposed to leave. It didn't feel right. I was so scared, I didn’t think to take Raghilda home; I climbed on Groundsplitter and set out for Val’s Burrow straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies—I realized what Savage must have done. What _I'd_ done."

His voice broke. He turned away.

"There's one certain way to prove what really happened," Johann said, and there was a steely note in his voice Hiccup had never heard before. "Astrid, _give me that rat_."

"What are you going to do with him?" Astrid asked Johann tensely.

"Force him to show himself," Johann said. "If he really _is_ a rat, it won't hurt him."

Astrid hesitated and looked at Raghilda, who nodded encouragingly, then held Scabbard out to Johann. The moment Johann took him, Scabbard began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turned, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head.

"Ready, Alvin?" Johann said.

Alvin had already retrieved Asketill’s axe from the bed. He approached Johann and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face.

"Together," he said quietly.

Johann nodded and held Scabbard tightly in one hand, his dagger in the other and said to Alvin, "On the count of three. One—two—THREE!"

A flash of blue-white light erupted from their weapons; for a moment, Scabbard was frozen in mid-air, his small black form twisting madly—the girls yelped—the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then—

It was like watching a sped-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upwards from the ground; limbs were sprouting; next moment, a man was standing where Scabbard had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Amber was hissing and snarling on the bed, her tail standing on end.

He was a short and thin man, hardly taller than Hiccup, and he wasn't exactly the tallest Viking in the world. He had a thick brown moustache and a chin puff that was surrounded by thick stubble. He looked as if he had once had a few muscles, but had lost them over time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbard's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose, his small, watery eyes. He looked around at them, his breathing fast and shallow. Hiccup saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

"Well, hello, Savage," Johann said pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. "Long time, no see."

"A-Alvin…J-Johann…" Savage squeaked, as his eyes darted towards the door again. "H-how nice to see you again…"

Alvin raised his axe, but Johann seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, and then turned again to Savage, his voice still light and casual.

"We've been having a nice little chat, Savage, about what happened the night Stoick and Valka died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed, scratching up poor Astrid’s skin—"

"Johann," Savage gasped, and Hiccup could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you…He tried to _kill_ me, Johann…"

"So we've heard," Johann said, more coldly. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Savage, if you'd be so—"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Savage shrieked suddenly, pointing at Alvin, and Hiccup saw that he used his middle finger, because his index finger was missing. "He killed Stoick and Valka and now he's going to kill me, too…he’s brainwashed poor Raghilda…you've got to _help_ me, Johann…"

Alvin's face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Savage with his fathomless eyes.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," Johann said.

"Sorted things out?" Savage repeated in clear disbelief, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for twelve years!"

"You knew my father was going to break out of Azkaban, Savage?" Raghilda asked; she spat out his name as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. "When nobody has ever done it before? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but last I checked you were not a Völva…"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Savage shouted. "How else could he have escaped? I suppose the Dragon Lord taught him a few tricks!"

Alvin started to laugh; a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room.

"Drago Bludvist, teach me tricks?" he said.

Savage flinched as though Alvin had brandished a whip at him.

"What, scared to hear your old master's name?" Alvin taunted. "I don't blame you, Savage. His lot isn’t very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know—what you mean, Alvin—" Savage muttered, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was now shining with sweat.

"You haven't been hiding from _me_ for twelve years," Alvin said. "Oh no, you've been hiding from Drago's old supporters. Raghilda and I, we heard things in Azkaban, Savage…the Dragon Marks there all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them...Isn’t that right, Raghilda?"

Raghilda nodded, moving closer. "I used to hear them, you know. I grew up hearing those tortured screams, those hopeless plans of revenge for the people they felt had wronged them…and it often sounded as though they thought the cowardly double-crosser had double-crossed them. I can’t say the theory is entirely unfounded; after all, Drago went to Val’s Burrow solely on _your_ information…And not all Drago's supporters ended up in Azkaban, either—There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways…If they _ever_ got wind that you were still alive, Savage, I shudder to think…"

"Don't know…what you're talking about, lass…he’s tricked you…" Savage said, trying to act tough and failing miserably. He wiped his face on his arm and looked up at Johann. "Surely you don't believe this—this _madness,_ Johann—"

"I must admit, Savage, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a girl’s pet rat," Johann said evenly.

"Innocent, true, but scared!" Savage squealed. "If Drago's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban—the spy, Alvin the Treacherous!"

Alvin's face contorted.

"How dare you," he growled, sounding suddenly like a bear-sized dog he had been. "Me, a spy for Drago Bludvist? Me, work for the man who thought my own children were a disgrace to Viking kind simply because they had a Muggle mother? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than me? But you, Savage—I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us…me, Gobber and Johann…and Stoick…"

Savage wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath.

"Me, a spy…you must be out of your mind…never…don't know how you can say such a—"

"Stoick and Valka only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Alvin hissed, his voice so venomous that even Raghilda took a step backwards. "I thought it was the perfect plan…a bluff…Drago would be sure to come after me, he'd have never dreamed they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you…oh, it must have been the finest moment of your miserable little life, telling Drago Bludvist that you could hand him the last of the Haddock clan on a silver platter."

Savage muttered distractedly; Hiccup caught words like "far-fetched" and "lunacy", but he couldn't help but notice the ashen color of Savage's face, and the way his eyes continued to dart towards the windows and door.

"Johann?" Ragnar asked. "Can I just say something?"

"Certainly, Ragnar," Johann said courteously.

"Well—Scabbard—I mean, Savage, he'd have had plenty of times to kill Hiccup over the past three years. I mean, Hiccup’s stayed at Astrid’s house, _in her room_. So, if he was working for the Dragon Lord, why hasn't he tried anything?"

"There!" Savage exclaimed, pointing at Ragnar with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Johann? I’ve never hurt so much as a _hair_ of Hiccup's head! Why would I?"

"Simple," Raghilda said; her voice was as cold as ice. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Drago Bludvist has been hiding for twelve years, alive only because he doesn’t have enough of a soul left within him _to_ die. You weren't about to commit murder right under the nose of Alvis the Noble for a damned wreck of a Viking who'd lost all his power, were you? No, no, no, you'd want to be _quite_ sure that he was the biggest bully on the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else would you find a Viking family to take care of you, rather than a Muggle one where you were far less likely to be spotted? It was in case your old protector regained his strength, and it was safe to rejoin him, just like all of the other vermin who called him their _Lord_ …"

Savage opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk.

"Uh—Alvin—I mean—Dad?" Ragnar said, rubbing the back of his head.

Alvin jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Ragnar. "Y-yes, son?"

"If you don't mind me asking how—how _did_ you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you!" Savage gasped, nodding frantically at him. "Exactly! Precisely what I—"

But Raghilda silenced him with a look. Alvin was frowning slightly at Ragnar, but not as though he was annoyed with him. He seemed to be pondering his answer.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent, and that I had to keep my daughter—your _sister_ —safe, because it was my fault she was even there in the first place. Those weren’t exactly happy thoughts, so the Dementors couldn't suck them out of me…but they kept me sane and knowing who I am…helped me keep my powers…so when it all became…too much…I could simply transform in my cell…become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know…" He swallowed. "They feel their way towards people by sensing their auras…they could tell that my feeling were less—less human, less complex when I was a dog…but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, and they had Raghilda to feed on, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and even as Raghilda’s magic grew stronger, even when she’d at last mastered her animagus form, her core was unstable from the constant draining, and we had no hope of driving them away from us without a crystal eye…

"But then I saw Savage in that picture…I realized he was at Berk, with Hiccup…perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again…"

Savage kept shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but he was staring at Alvin all the while, as though hypnotized.

"…ready to strike the _moment_ he could be sure of allies…to deliver the last Haddock to the Dragon Marks. If he gave them Hiccup, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Drago? He'd be welcomed back with the highest of honors…"

"Imagine our horror when I discovered that the girl in the photo was one of your best friends," Raghilda added softly. "If Drago returned, she’d be among the first to know…And so would he…"

Hiccup remembered what Mr Hofferson had told Mrs. Hofferson. "The guards say he's been talking in his sleep…always the same words…' _He's at Berk_ '."

"It was as if Thor himself had struck me with a lightning bolt, and lit a fire in my heart that the Dementors couldn't destroy…it wasn't a happy feeling…it was an obsession, if I’m being honest…but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, Raghilda and I slipped past them as dogs…it's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused, especially since they could no longer sense Raghilda’s aura…I lost a lot of weight during my imprisonment; so much that I was able slip through the bars…I swam as a dog back to the mainland with Raghilda on my back…I journeyed north and swam across the lake to the island as a dog once again…I wrote the note for Raghilda and I sent her on her way, and I've been living in Raven's Point ever since…except when I came to watch the Dragon Racing match, of course…imagine my surprise that you were riding on the same Night Fury that Valka once saved as a hatchling…you fly just like your parents, Hiccup…"

He looked at Hiccup, who did not look away.

"Believe me," Alvin croaked. "Believe me. I never betrayed Stoick and Valka. I would have died before I betrayed them." He then looked at Ragnar. "And I'd never leave you and your mother for power. I loved Kelda with all my heart. I never should’ve had Raghilda with me that night."

Hiccup looked at Ragnar and one look told him that, at long last, they believed him. Hiccup's throat was too tight to speak, and Ragnar was speechless, but they both nodded.

"No!"

Savage had fallen to his knees as though their nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying.

"Alvin—it's me…it's Sav…your friend…you wouldn't…"

Alvin kicked out, and Savage scrambled backwards.

"There's enough filth on my trousers without you touching them," he said.

"Johann!" Savage squeaked, turning to Johann instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. "You don't believe this…Wouldn't Alvin have told you they'd change the plan?"

"Not if he feared _I_ was the spy, Savage," Johann said. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Alvin?" he said casually over Savage’s head.

"I should have known better," Alvin admitted. "There's a whole list of things I should have done better. Can you forgive me, Moony?"

"But of course, Padfoot old friend," Johann said, rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing _you_ were the spy?"

"Of course," Alvin said, as the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," Johann said grimly.

"You wouldn't…you won't…" Savage gasped.

"Why shouldn't they?" Astrid said, glaring at the man who had pretended to be her pet for so many years. "You betrayed them. You betrayed Stoick and Valka Haddock, people who _trusted_ you. And spare me your "innocent man" bullshit—it was not an innocent man who wrapped his hands around Raghilda’s throat."

"Wait, what?" Ragnar asked.

Astrid looked at him. "The night Raghilda was attacked, Scabbard wasn't in my satchel. I found him under my bed that night, sound asleep. I didn't think much of it, until…"

"Until I told you the truth," Raghilda finished.

Savage crawled towards Astrid. "…I was your rat, Astrid…I was a very good pet…"

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Savage," Alvin said harshly.

Astrid, going still paler with pain, lifted her axe and pointed it at Savage. Getting the point, Savage promptly turned on his knees, staggered towards Ragnar, and seized the hem of his shirt.

"Dear Ragnar…clever boy…you—you won't let them hurt me…"

Ragnar's expression almost perfectly mirrored that of his father, and he pulled his shirt out of Savage's clutching hands with an air of pure disgust.

Savage knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly towards Hiccup.

"Hiccup…Hiccup…you look just like your mother…you've got your father's eyes…"

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HICCUP?" Alvin roared. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT STOICK AND VALKA IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Hiccup," Savage whispered, shuffling towards him, hands outstretched, "Hiccup, Valka wouldn't have wanted me killed…Valka would have _understood_ , Hiccup…she would have shown me mercy…"

Raghilda raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "After you endangered the life of her husband and her only son? How well did you actually know the woman?"

Both Alvin and Johann strode forwards, seized Savage's shoulders and threw him backwards onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You sold Stoick and Valka to Drago," Alvin said, shaking with rage. "Do you deny it?"

Savage looked frantic as he cowered on the floor.

"Alvin, Alvin, what could I have done? The Dragon Lord…you have no idea…he has weapons and powers you can't imagine…I was _scared_ , Alvin, I was never brave like you and Johann and Stoick. I never meant it to happen…the Dragon Lord forced me—"

"DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME!" Alvin bellowed. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A _YEAR_ BEFORE HE KILLED STOICK AND VALKA! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He—he was taking over everywhere!" Savage gasped. "Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil tyrant who has ever existed?" Alvin said with a terrible fury in his eyes. "Only innocent lives, Savage!"

"You don't understand!" Savage insisted. "He would have killed me, Alvin!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" Alvin roared. "'WE'RE VIKINGS, IT’S AN OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD' THAT’S WHAT STOICK ALWAYS SAID. HE'D RATHER DIE THAN BETRAY HIS FRIENDS, AS I WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Alvin and Johann stood shoulder to shoulder, their weapons raised.

"In all my years traveling the world, I have never met such a coward," Johann said quietly. "You should have realized that if Drago didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Savage."

"NO!" Hiccup yelled. He ran forward as Raghilda had done, placing himself in front of Savage, facing the weapons. "You can't kill him," he said breathlessly. "You can't."

Alvin and Johann both looked staggered.

"Hiccup, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents, that Ragnar grew up without knowing his father, and that Raghilda spent her childhood in Azkaban," Alvin snarled. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die, too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family. And you want to spare him?"

"Yes," Hiccup said firmly. "That's why we'll take him to the mountain. We'll hand him over to the Dementors. He can go to Azkaban…just don't kill him."

"Hiccup!" Savage gasped, and he flung his arm around Hiccup's knees, even as Raghilda growled "Touch my godbrother and I swear I will run you through—". "You—thank you—it's more than I deserve—thank you—"

"Yeah, I know," Hiccup spat, throwing Savage's hands off him in disgust. "That's why I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I don't reckon my dad would've wanted his best friends to become killers—just for you."

No one moved or made a sound except Savage, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Alvin and Johann were looking at each other. Then, with one moment, they lowered their weapons.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Hiccup," Alvin said. "But think…think what he did…"

"Death would be the easy way out," Hiccup said, and he looked down at Savage with contempt. "He doesn't deserve it."

* * *

**...Well, he's not wrong.**

**Highlight of chapter: "And spare me your "innocent man" bullshit—it was not an innocent man who wrapped his hands around Raghilda's throat."**

**(*swoons*)**

**We're pulling into the final stretch, folks. Chapter Twenty-Three will be published January 1st, 2018. With that in mind, any and all suggestions should be in by December 31st, as that will be the latest possible time to fit them in. Remember, credit is always given!**

**Suggestions for Book Four: The Goblet of Fire are now being accepted!**

**And last of all, please remember to click kudos, leave a comment, and/or bookmark this series. Everyone who does gets a shout-out at the end! That includes guests! (granted, it'll be done like "Guest #1, Guest #2, etc.", but that's the best I can do without screen-names)**

**Well folks, that's all this week. Have a wonderful day! ♥**


	21. The Dementor's Kiss

**BOOK ONE NOW HAS OVER A THOUSAND HITS! THE ENTIRE SERIES HAS OVER _TWO_ THOUSAND! WOO-HOO!**

**...Sorry, I'm excited.**

**This is a fairly short chapter, but the next one is going to be long and confusing (and I say this as someone who has read it ten times already and still has to go back and check it), so I feel like it all adds up. Enjoy.**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-one: The Dementor's Kiss_

* * *

Hiccup had never been part of a stranger group. Amber led the way down the stairs; Hiccup and Alvin went next, each supporting Astrid, who now had a makeshift splint on her broken leg, which Raghilda had made by using two pieces of wood and some of the old bed sheets. Next came Asketill, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting each stair as they descended, held up by Johann. Last were Ragnar and Raghilda, who had taken out their short-swords and were now pointing them at Savages' back.

Getting back into the tunnel proved rather difficult. Hiccup, Astrid, and Alvin all barely fit, even with how close to each other they were. Each step seemed to drain more color from Astrid’s face, so Hiccup and Alvin moved slowly, pausing every few seconds to let her recover. Astrid was very clearly annoyed by this, but given the option, Hiccup would much rather have her annoyed than in pain.

"Sorry about the bite," Alvin said after a while. "I reckon that twinges a bit."

" _ A bit…a bit… _ !" Astrid hissed, her grip on Hiccup’s arm tightening. "I'm lucky you didn't tear my bloody leg off!"

"I was going for Savage," Alvin said in his own defense. "Normally I have a very sweet disposition as a dog. Stoick regularly suggested that I make the change permanent." He then paused, as if remembering something painful. "The tail I could live with…but the  _ flies _ …"

Raghilda shuddered, her blade slashing a decent-sized hole in Savage’s clothes. "The flies are fucking  _ evil _ ."

Hiccup chuckled as they exited the tunnel. Amber darted up first; she had evidently pressed her claw to the knot on the trunk, because when they climbed out the tree didn't attack. Alvin stayed behind to help the others up; Hiccup helped Astrid over to one of the larger roots and had her sit down. The splint had started falling apart, so he fixed it and made sure it wouldn't slip off.

"You alright?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Astrid said, too fast to be casual.

"Astrid…"

She looked away. "I'm fine, alright? Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, that sounds convincing," Hiccup deadpanned. Astrid’s lips twitched upward ever so slightly. "Seriously Astrid, what's wrong?"

Astrid seemed intent on not looking him in the eyes.

Three pairs of feet headed their way. Hiccup and Astrid looked up to see Ragnar, Savage, and Raghilda standing over them. Savage was cowering in fear, but the siblings didn't even seem to notice.

"Father said we should let Astrid rest for a few minutes," Raghilda said. "Frankly, I agree."

"I don't need to rest," Astrid said, now back to being annoyed. She pushed herself back to her feet, but immediately began wobbling.

"They've got a point, Milady," Hiccup said, easing her back onto the root. "It'll only be for a few minutes. You can wait that long, right?"

Astrid grumbled, but nodded.

With her free hand, Raghilda patted her on the head. "Good girl."

"Keep petting me and I will  _ bite _ you."

In a rare show of emotion Raghilda grinned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "Is that a promise?"

The village was completely dark, except for a few torches that burnt in the distance. Alvin was staring out at them, an odd look on his face.

"Go," Raghilda said, looking from Ragnar to Hiccup. She nodded towards Alvin. "The three of you ought to have a talk."

"You sure you can handle Savage on your own?" Ragnar asked.

"Ragnar, please, you're talking to the girl who broke Snotlout’s nose with a single punch."

Ragnar coughed, looking embarrassed. "Fair enough, fair enough…"

They walked over to Alvin.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," Alvin said, not turning to look at them. "I'll never forget the first time I set foot on this island. Felt like I’d been set free. Never imagined I’d get to experience that feeling twice."

They remained silent for a moment, until Ragnar said, "Mum never married, you know."

"She didn't?" Alvin asked, looking surprised. "She had a whole group of men asking her to marry them when we were together. Had to beat off the front lawn a few times."

"You did?"

"No,  _ she  _ did." Alvin sighed wistfully, a look of longing on his face. "She’d grab whatever was closest and go marching out the door, screaming her head off. I had half the mind to ask the men to tell me when they were coming, just so I could have some popcorn ready."

He laughed.

Ragnar looked amazed. "I…I didn't know that."

"Figure you wouldn't," Alvin said. "Kelda was adamant we never do such violet things in front of you and Raghilda…Seemed to think it would be a bad influence on you. Not sure where she got an idea like that from."

He looked at Hiccup.

"Hiccup…I'm not sure if anyone’s told you this, but…I’m your godfather."

"Yeah, I knew that," Hiccup said, choosing not to elaborate on how he had learned this.

"Well…your parents appointed me your guardian," Alvin said stiffly. "If anything happened to them…"

Hiccup and Ragnar shared a look. Did Alvin mean what they  _ thought  _ he meant?

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," Alvin said. "But…well… think about it. Once my name's cleared…if you wanted a…a different home…"

Some sort of explosion took place in the pit of Hiccup's stomach.

"What—live with you?" he said. "Leave the Dalvors?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," Alvin said quickly. "I understand. I just thought I'd—"

"Are you mad?" Hiccup said, his voice easily as croaky as Alvin's. "Of course I want to leave the Dalvors! When can I move in?"

"How about at the end of term," Ragnar said, placing his arm around Hiccup's shoulders.

Alvin's gaunt face broke into the first true smile Hiccup had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger was shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognizable as Ragnar and Raghilda’s father, as the man who had laughed at Hiccup's parents' wedding.

Hiccup's mind was buzzing with excitement. He was going to leave the Dalvors! He was going to live with Ragnar, Raghilda and their parents…He felt dazed…What would happen when he told Balder he was going to live with the convict they'd seen on television?!

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight.

"Oh no," Alvin said, looking at Johann.

Hiccup and Ragnar spun around. Johann had frozen in place, his dagger falling from his hands. Then he began to shake.

"He didn't take his Potion tonight!" Raghilda gasped.

"Run!" Alvin yelled pushing, Hiccup and Ragnar aside. "Run! Now!"

But Hiccup couldn't run. His legs seemed to be stuck in place.

There was a terrible snarling noise. Johann's head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. His clothes were torn apart and scattered everywhere.

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Alvin charged at Johann and transformed. The enormous bear-like dog bounded forwards and seized it about the neck and pulled backwards, away from Savage and the girls. They were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other—

Hiccup stood, transfixed by the sight; too intent upon the battle to notice anything else. It was Raghilda’s startled cry that alerted him—

Savage had dived for Johann's dagger. The girls raised their weapons at him, but Savage fired a chunk of earth—and Astrid fell back, her head thudding against the ground. Raghilda had escaped the same fate by transforming into a dog and rushing over to Astrid’s side. Seemingly not noticing, Savage fired another chunk of earth—Amber flew from the air and landed in a heap on the ground.

Hiccup quickly tossed a fireball at Savage, disarming him. Savage turned to Hiccup with a menacing smile.

"You should have killed me while you had the chance, you know," Savage taunted, and before Hiccup could stop him, he transformed.

Hiccup threw several fireballs at him, but Savage was simply too fast. Hiccup saw his bald tail whip through the air, and heard a scurrying through the glass.

There was a howl and a rumbling growl; Hiccup turned to see the werewolf taking off; it was galloping into the forest—

"Alvin, he's gone, Savage transformed!" Hiccup yelled.

Alvin was bleeding; there were gashes across his muzzle and back, but at Hiccup's words he scrambled up again, and in an instant, the sound of his paws was fading to silence as he pounded away across the farm.

Hiccup and Ragnar dashed over to Astrid and Raghilda, the latter of whom had returned to her human form.

"It's nothing too serious," she assured them, carefully examining the large bump on the blonde’s head. "But she'll be like this for some time…"

Hiccup looked desperately around. Alvin and Johann were both gone…they had no one for company but Asketill, who was still hanging, unconscious, in mid-air.

"We'd better get them to the village and tell someone," Hiccup said, pushing his hair out of his eyes, trying to think straight.

Raghilda lowered her head; Hiccup could see a peculiar pain in her eyes. "You two go; I’ll take care of Astrid."

"Raghilda, you said it yourself, she’ll be fine—"

But then, out of the darkness, they heard a yelping, a whining; a dog in pain…

"Alvin," Hiccup muttered, staring into the darkness.

"He’s in trouble, we have to help!" Ragnar yelled.

Hiccup set off at a run, Ragnar right behind him. The yelping seemed to be coming from near Thor's Beach. They pelted towards it, and Hiccup, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean—

The yelping stopped abruptly. As they reached Thor's Beach, they saw why—Alvin had turned back into a man. He was crouching on all fours, his hands over his head.

" _ Nooo _ ," he moaned, sounding remarkably like his daughter had only a few hours before. " _ Noooo… please… _ "

And then Hiccup saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, were gliding in a black mass around the lake towards them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides, fog starting to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them…

"Ragnar, think of something happy," Hiccup yelled, raising his sword, blinking furiously to try and clear his vision, shaking his head to rid it of the faint screaming that had started inside it—

_ I'm going to live with Ragnar, Raghilda and their parents. I'm leaving the Dalvors. _

He forced himself to think of Ragnar, Raghilda and Alvin, and only them, and began to concentrate.

Alvin gave a shudder, rolled over and lay motionless on the ground, his face unnaturally pale.

_ He'll be alright. I'm going to go and live with him and Rag and Raghilda. _

"Ragnar, help me!"

"I-I'm... trying—" Ragnar whispered. "I'm—I'm trying—"

But he couldn't do it. The Dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. They formed a solid wall around Hiccup and Ragnar, and were getting closer…

"GET AWAY!" Hiccup yelled, trying to concentrate and trying to blot the screaming from his ears. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

A thin wisp of silver escaped from his sword and hovered like mist before him. At the same moment, Hiccup felt Ragnar collapse next to him. He was alone now…completely alone…

"Leave—leave us alone—"

By the feeble light of his formless Guardian, he saw a Dementor halt, very close to him. It couldn't walk through the cloud of silver mist Hiccup had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as though to sweep the mist aside.

"No— _ no _ —" Hiccup gasped. "He's innocent… get—get away from him—"

He could feel them watching him, hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around him. The nearest Dementor seemed to be considering him. Then it raised both its rotting hands—and lowered its hood.

Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, grey, scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth… a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of death-rattle.

A paralyzing terror filled Hiccup so that he couldn't move or speak. His Guardian flickered and died.

White fog was blinding him. He had to fight…he had to concentrate…he groped in the mist for Alvin, and found his arm…they weren't going to take him…

But a pair of strong, clammy hands had suddenly wrapped themselves around Hiccup's neck. They were forcing his face upwards…he could feel its breath…it was going to get rid of him first…he could feel its putrid breath…his mother was screaming in his ears…she was going to be the last thing he ever heard—

And then, through the fog that was drowning him, he thought he saw a silvery light, growing brighter and brighter…he felt himself fall forwards onto the sand—

Face down, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Hiccup forced his eyes to open. The blinding light was illuminating the sand around him…The screaming had stopped; the cold was ebbing away…

Something was slamming into the Dementors it was flying around him and Alvin and Ragnar with all the grace of a fully-grown dragon…the rattling, sucking sounds of the Dementors were fading. They were leaving…the air was warm again…

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Hiccup raised his head a few inches and saw an animal amidst the light, flying away over the beach. Eyes blurred with sweat, Hiccup tried to make out what it was…it was as bright as a unicorn, if not brighter. Fighting to stay conscious, Hiccup watched as it flew up to the cliff. For a moment, Hiccup saw, by its brightness, somebody welcoming it back…raised their hand to pat it on the nose…someone who looked strangely familiar…

But it couldn't be…

Hiccup didn't understand. He couldn't think any more. He felt the last of his strength leave him, and his head hit the ground as he fainted.

* * *

**Poor Hiccup. Should've stuck with the happy memory that had already been proven to work...**

**Come to think of it, poor everybody-who-is-not-Savage-or-Asketill. It was not a good experience for any of the _nice_ people.**

**Highlight of chapter: Hm...Let's go with the information about Kelda. That was fun.**

**_♪_ Only one more week 'til Christmas _♪_**


	22. Ragnar's Secret

**Remember when I said the highlight of last chapter was the information about Kelda? Well apparently I forgot this little gem of an interaction occurred:**

_**With her free hand, Raghilda patted her** _ **[Astrid]** _**on** **the head. "Good girl."** _

_**"Keep petting me and I** **will** _ **bite _you."_**

_**In a rare show of emotion Raghilda grinned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "Is that a promise?"** _

**Carry on.**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-two:  Ragnar's Secret_

* * *

"Shocking business…absolutely shocking…miracle none of them died…never heard the like…Thor’s thunder, it was lucky you were there, Asketill…"

"Thank you, Chief."

"Order of Haddock, Second Class, I'd say. First Class, if I can wrangle it!"

"Thank you very much indeed, Chief."

"Nasty cut you've got there… Alvin's work, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Haddock, Hofferson and Wicket, Chief…"

" _ No! _ "

"Alvin had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. The Loki Grip, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions, of course…On the other hand, their interference might have almost permitted Alvin to escape…they obviously thought they were going to catch Alvin single-handed. They've got away a great deal before now…I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves…and of course Haddock has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the Headmaster—"

"Ah, well, Asketill…Hiccup Haddock, you know…we've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned."

"I understand that, Chief—but is it really good for him to be given so much special treatment? So much leeway? Personally, I try to treat him like I would any other student. And any other student would—at the very least—be suspended for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Chief: against all academy rules—after all the precautions put in place for his protection—out of bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer—and I have reason to believe he has been visiting Berksmeade illegally, too—"

"Well, well…we shall see, Asketill, we shall see…the boy has undoubtedly been foolish…"

Hiccup lay listening with his eyes tight shut. He felt very groggy. The words he was hearing seemed to be travelling very slowly from his ears to his brain, so that it was difficult to understand. His limbs felt like lead; his eyelids too heavy to lift…he wanted to lie here, on the comfortable bed, forever…

"What amazes me most is the behavior of the Dementors…you've really no idea what made them retreat, Asketill?"

"No, Chief. By the time I had come round half of them were destroyed and the other half were heading back to their positions at the entrance…"

"Extraordinary. And yet Alvin, his son and Hiccup—"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Alvin, naturally, used some Wind Magic to lift them in the air and brought them all straight back to the village."

There was a pause. Hiccup's brain seemed to be moving a little faster, and as it did, a gnawing sensation grew in the pit of his stomach…

Slowly, painfully, he forced his eyes to open.

Everything was slightly blurred. He was lying in the dark healing center. At the very end of the ward, he could make out Bergljot with her back to him, bending over a bed. Hiccup squinted. Astrid's golden blonde hair was visible beneath Bergljot's arm, and if he strained his ears enough he could hear her grumbling to herself as Bergljot banadged her leg.

Hiccup moved his head over on the pillow. In the bed to his right lay Ragnar. Moonlight was falling across his bed. His eyes were open, too. When he saw Hiccup was awake, he pressed a finger to his lips, and then pointed to the Infirmary door. It was ajar, and the voices of Asketill and Fudge the Mighty were coming through it from the corridor outside.

Bergljot now came walking briskly up the dark ward to Hiccup's bed. He turned to look at her. She was carrying the largest block of chocolate he had ever seen in his life. It looked like a small boulder.

"Ah, you're awake!" she said briskly. She placed the chocolate on Hiccup's bedside table and began breaking it apart with a small hammer.

"How are you Astrid?" Hiccup asked.

Astrid grunted, turning onto her side so that she was facing him. "Well let's see—sprained ankle, several scratches and a killer headache from being  _ hit in the face _ . How do you  _ think _ I am?"

"You'll live," Bergljot said grimly. "But all three of you'll be staying until I'm satisfied you're—Haddock, Wicket, what on Midgard do you think you're doing?"

Both Hiccup and Ragnar were getting out of their beds.

"We need to see the Headmaster," they said.

"Relax," Bergljot said soothingly, "it's alright. They've got Alvin. He's locked away somewhere. The Dementors will be performing the Kiss any moment now—"

"WHAT?!" they all shouted.

Hiccup and Ragnar jumped out of their beds and Astrid was also making an attempt to no avail. Their shouts had been heard outside; next second, Fudge and Asketill entered the room.

"Hiccup, Hiccup, what's this?" Fudge said, looking agitated. "You should be in bed—has he had any chocolate?" he asked Bergljot anxiously.

"Chief, listen!" Hiccup said. "Alvin the Treacherous isn't treacherous, he's innocent! Savage the Sniveling faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the Dementors do that thing to Alvin, he's—"

But Fudge was shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

"Hiccup, Hiccup, you've very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control…"

"YOU HAVEN'T!" Hiccup yelled. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

"Chief, listen," Ragnar said; he had walked over to Hiccup's side and was looking at Fudge with a fixed expression. "I saw him, too, he's an Animagus—"

"Yeah, he was disguised as my rat for twelve years and attacked us. I've got the bump to prove it," Astrid said, gesturing to the bump on her head.

"You see, Chief?" Asketill said. "Bewitched, all three of them…Alvin’s little brat did a very good job on them…"

"WE'RE NOT BEWITCHED!" Hiccup roared.

"And Raghilda would never hurt us!" Astrid added.

"Chief! Asketill!" Bergljot said angrily. "I must insist that you leave. Hiccup is my patient, and he and his friends should not be distressed!"

"We're not distressed; I'm trying to tell them what happened!" Hiccup said furiously. "If they'd just  _ listen _ —"

But Bergljot suddenly stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into Hiccup's mouth. He choked, and she seized the opportunity to force him back onto the bed.

"Now,  _ please _ , Chief, these children need care. Please leave—"

The door opened again. It was Alvis, Gobber and Phlegma, who had her arm wrapped tightly around Raghilda. Hiccup swallowed his mouthful of chocolate with great difficulty, and got up again looking at Alvis.

"Sir, Alvin—"

"For the love of Freya!" Bergljot said hysterically. "Is this an Infirmary or not? Headmaster, I must insist—"

"Our apologies, Bergljot, but we need a word with Mr Haddock, Mr Wicket and Miss Hofferson," Alvis said calmly. "I have just been talking to Alvin—"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Haddock's mind?" Asketill spat. "Something about a rat and Savage being alive—"

"That, indeed, is Alvin's story," Alvis said, surveying Asketill closely. "The very story Raghilda herself told me when she was discovered, right down to the very last detail. I’m sorry I doubted her for a moment."

"I'm also in clam to believe his story, being so far-fetched," Phlegma said, tightening her grip on Raghilda’s shoulders.

"And does my evidence count for nothing?" Asketill snarled. "Savage the Sniveling was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him when I came round."

"That was because we knocked you out!" Astrid said, glaring at Asketill. "You didn't arrive in time to hear—"

"Miss Hofferson, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!"

"Asketill the Harsh!" Phlegma said, giving him a threatening look. "Don't you dare talk to members of my house like that!"

"Let's all calm down," Fudge said, startled.

"We would like to speak to Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar alone," Alvis said abruptly. "Fudge, Asketill, Bergljot—please leave us."

"Headmaster, this is unnecessary!" Bergljot spluttered. "These students need treatment, they need rest—"

"This cannot wait," Alvis said. "I must insist."

Bergljot pursed her lips and strode away upstairs to her room above the Infirmary, slamming the door behind her.

Fudge consulted the watch on his wrist.

"The Dementors should have arrived by now," he said. "I'll go and meet them. Alvis, I'll be seeing you soon."

He crossed to the door and held it open for Asketill, but Asketill hadn't moved.

"You three of all people surely don't believe a word of Alvin's story?" Asketill whispered, his eyes fixed on Alvis’s face.

"Neither can they trust the words of a man who'd lose no sleep in watching him suffer," Raghilda hissed.

Asketill glared at her, but Alvis raised his arm. "I wish to Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar alone," he repeated.

Asketill took a step towards Alvis.

"Alvin the Treacherous showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill  _ me _ ?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Asketill," Alvis said quietly. "But recall that we never  _ did  _ find the man who attacked Miss Harkstow…"

Asketill turned on his heel and marched through the door Fudge was still holding. It closed behind them and Alvis turned to Hiccup, Astrid and Ragnar. The three of them burst into speech at the same him.

"Sir, Alvin's telling the truth—we  _ saw _ Savage—"

"—he escaped when Johann turned into a werewolf—"

"—Savage was Scabbard—"

"—Savage's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off—"

"—he was the Secret-Keeper, not Alvin—"

But Alvis held up his hand to stem the flood of explanations.

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time," he said quietly. "There is not a shred of proof to support Alvin's story, except your word—and the word of four teenagers will not convince anybody, especially not when two of them are his children. A street full of eye-witnesses swore they saw Alvin murder Savage. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry, along with Gobber and Phlegma here, that Alvin had been the Haddock's Secret-Keeper."

"Johann can tell you—" Hiccup said, unable to stop himself.

Raghilda shook her head. "Uncle Johann is currently deep in the Forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late; my father will be worse than dead."

"I've already tried to convince Fudge to wait until Johann returns," Gobber said sadly. "Nearly laughed in my face."

"Besides, werewolves are so distrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very, very little—and the fact that he and Alvin are old friends—" Phlegma added.

"But—" Hiccup interrupted.

" _ Listen to me, Hiccup _ ," Alvis said. "Phlegma and Gobber are right, it is too late, you understand me? You must see that Asketill’s version of events is far more convincing than yours."

"He hates my dad," Ragnar said angrily. "All because of some stupid trick my dad played on him when they were sixteen—"

"Alvin has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Valkyrie—entering the Gryffindor Common Room with a knife—without Savage, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Alvin's sentence."

" _ But you believe us _ ."

"Yes, I do, as does Phlegma. And Gobber informed me that he recognized Savage a few hours ago as a rat," said Alvis quietly. "But we have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Chief…"

"So, what?" Astrid said, looking annoyed. "We just sit around here and let the Dementors kiss Alvin? Let everything Raghilda did go to waste?"

Hiccup stared up at Alvis’s grave face and felt as though the ground beneath him was falling sharply away. He had grown used to the idea that Alvis could solve anything. He had expected Alvis to pull some amazing solution out of the air. But no…their last hope was gone.

"What we really, truly need," Raghilda said slowly, and her molten gold eyes moved from Hiccup to Ragnar, "is a little more  _ time _ ."

Ragnar looked confused, but then he seemed to realize what his twin meant. He then looked at Phlegma, who nodded as if to agree on something.

"Now, pay attention," Alvis said, speaking very low, and very clearly. "Alvin is locked in Alvar's house, in the plaza on the first floor. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this.  _ You must not be seen _ . Ragnar, you know the law—Raghilda, you know exactly what is at stake… _ you—must—not—be—seen _ ."

Hiccup didn't have a clue what was going on, and judging from their faces, neither did Astrid and Gobber. Alvis had turned on his heel, Gobber and Phlegma followed him, and looked back as they reached the door.

"I am going to lock you in. It is—" he consulted his watch, "five minutes to midnight. Mr Wicket, three turns should do it. Good luck."

Alvis then closed the door behind him.

"What in the name of Thor was that about?" Astrid asked.

"Yeah," Hiccup agreed. "Good luck with what? Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?"

But Ragnar was fumbling with the neck of his tunic, pulling from beneath it a very long, very fine gold chain, which he threw around Raghilda’s neck as well.

"Sorry, Astrid," Ragnar said, as he and Raghilda pulled Hiccup towards them, "but seeing how you can't walk..."

Hiccup was still completely bewildered. Ragnar was holding the chain out. He saw a tiny, sparkling hourglass hanging from it.

"Here—"

He had thrown the chain around his neck, too.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," Raghilda replied, looking determined.

"Ready for  _ what _ ?" Hiccup asked, completely lost.

Rather than answering, Ragnar took a deep breath and turned the hourglass over three times.

The Infirmary dissolved. Hiccup had the sensation that he was flying, very fast backwards. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him; his ears were pounding. He tried to yell but he couldn't hear his own voice—

And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus again—

He was standing next to Ragnar and Raghilda in the deserted Great Hall and a stream of golden sunlight was shining through the enchanted ceiling above them. He looked wildly around at Ragnar, the chain of the hourglass cutting into his neck.

"Ragnar, what—?"

"Behind here!" Ragnar whispered, pulling Hiccup behind a pillar.

Before Hiccup could ask what was going, he heard footsteps and peered behind the pillar. He couldn’t see himself, Ragnar or Astrid, because they were wearing the Invisibility Cape, but he recognized the footsteps and the whispers that came from the Cape.

"But that's us," Hiccup gasped. "This is not right."

Ragnar quickly placed his hand over Hiccup's mouth and didn't remove it until the Great Hall's doors closed.

"We've gone back about three hours," Ragnar explained as he removed the chain from his neck.

"We've what?!" Hiccup said, utterly bewildered.

"It's called a Time-Turner," Ragnar whispered, gesturing to the chain and hourglass. "I got it from Phlegma on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to my lessons. Phlegma made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student and that I've never, ever use it for anything except my studies…I've been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that's how I've been doing several lessons at once, see?"

"Okay," Hiccup said, still a little dumbfounded. "But why send us back three hours, Alvin was caught one…I mean, two hours before now."

"I know," Ragnar agreed. "Then there must be something he wanted us to do."

"Well, three hour ago…I mean right now, we're heading to Gobber—" Then a sudden thought struck Hiccup. "Rag, Alvis just said—just said we could save more than one innocent life could be spared—he meant Groundsplitter."

"But—how will that help Alvin?"

"Alvis told us where they were going to lock him up—the window in Alvar's house! We can get Groundsplitter fly up to the window on the first floor of Alvar's house and rescue him!

Raghilda’s eyes lit up with understanding. "Father can escape on Groundsplitter…they’ll escape together!"

Ragnar thought about the plan, and it seemed to make sense to him.

"It may just work…as long no one sees us, that is."

"Then let's get going," Hiccup said.

They nodded and walked out of their hiding place. As quietly and quickly as they could, they darted to the door and ran down the stone steps. The shadows were already lengthening; the tops of the trees in Raven's Point gilded once more with gold.

"If anyone's looking out of the windows—" Ragnar said worriedly, looking at the village ahead of them.

"We'll have to run for it, then," Raghilda remarked. "Run from house to house, until we get a perfect view of Uncle Gobber's workshop."

"Okay, but we'll have to stay out of sight of Gobber's front door, or we'll see ourselves! We must be nearly at Gobber's by now!"

Still working out what he meant, Hiccup set off at a sprint; Raghilda morphed into her animal form and followed, leaving Ragnar scrambling after her.

They rushed from house to house, pausing for a moment behind each of them, and then setting off again, fast as they could until they reached a house opposite of Gobber's, with a great view of the front of Gobber's workshop and of Groundsplitter, who was tethered to a wooden stake by metal chains, and the sleeping Grump.

Safe in the shadows of the house they hid behind, Hiccup turned around in time to see Raghilda unmorph. Ragnar arrived seconds later, panting heavily.

"Right," he gasped, "we just need to wait, but we have to keep out of sight."

Then, as they glimpsed the front of Gobber's house, they heard a knock upon the doorframe. They saw Gobber appearing in his doorway, looking around to see who had knocked. And Hiccup heard his own voice.

"It's us. We're wearing the Invisibility Cape. Let us in and we can take it off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Gobber whispered. He stood back, and then entered the workshop.

"This is the weirdest thing we've ever done," Hiccup said fervently.

"Life’s not over yet, Hiccup; we will undoubtedly find stranger," Raghilda said, in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

"Really? Good to know."

At that moment, there was a crash of breaking china from inside Gobber's workshop.

"That's Uncle Gobber breaking the mugs," Raghilda whispered. "I'm going to find Savage in a moment—"

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they heard Raghilda's gasp.

"Astrid! I—Look here—It's  _ him _ !"

"Should've killed him when I had the chance," Raghilda muttered.

"Rag," Hiccup said suddenly, "what if we—we just run in there, and grab Savage—"

"No!" Ragnar said firmly. "Don't you understand? We're breaking one of the most important Viking laws! Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Alvis, if we're seen—"

"We'd only be seen by ourselves and Gobber—"

"Hiccup, if you saw yourself bursting into Uncle Gobber's workshop, what do you think you'd do?" Raghilda asked.

"I'd—I'd think I'd gone mad," Hiccup admitted slowly, "or I'd think there was some Dark Magic going on—"

" _ Exactly _ ; you wouldn't understand what was actually happening, and would likely end up attacking yourself."

"Phlegma told me what awful things have happened when Vikings have meddled with time…" Ragnar added. "Loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Hiccup said. "It was just an idea, I just thought—"

But then Raghilda nudged him, and pointed towards the mountain. Hiccup moved his head a few inches to get a clear view of the distant front door. Alvis, Fudge, the old Committee member, and Cutthroat the Executioner were coming down the steps.

"Let's free Groundsplitter and get out of here," Hiccup said, moving to the back of Gobber's workshop.

"No!" Ragnar said, yanking him back. "If we steal him now, those Committee people will think Gobber set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!"

"That's going to give us about sixty seconds," Hiccup said. This was starting to seem impossible.

"I never said it was going to be easy," Ragnar said grimly.

Hiccup groaned as Ragnar turned his attention to Gobber's workshop and frowned.

"Why aren't we leaving?" he said.

Raghilda looked at the ground and picked up a stone. She stared at it for a second, and then suddenly threw it as hard as she could. The stone sailed through the air and collided with the back of Past-Hiccup's head.

"Ow!"

"Bullseye," she said.

Hiccup rubbed the back of his head, remembering the pain. "That hurt you know."

"Sorry," Raghilda apologized, straightening her sleeves. She glanced back at Gobber's workshop. "But it was effective nonetheless; we should be coming out right about… _ now _ ."

And sure enough, Gobber's back door opened, and Hiccup saw himself, Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda walking out of it with Gobber. It was, without a doubt, the strangest sensation of his life, standing behind a house and watching himself.

"Get goin'," Gobber said looking at the four.

"Gobber, we can't—"

"We'll tell them what really happened—"

"They can't kill him—"

Same as before, Raghilda said nothing. Her eyes were locked onto the struggling Scabbard— _ Savage _ , Hiccup reminded himself—like a dog on the hunt. Astrid caught her gaze and nodded, her grip on the rat tightening just a bit.

"Go! It’s bad enough without the lot of you gettin’ in trouble an’ all!"

The past Ragnar threw the Invisibility Cape over himself, Raghilda and Astrid.

"Go quick. Don' listen…"

There was a knock at the front of Gobber's workshop. The execution party had arrived. Gobber turned around and headed back into his workshop, leaving the back door ajar. Hiccup watched dust flying all around the workshop and heard four pairs of feet retreating. Their past selves and Astrid had gone…but the Hiccup, Ragnar and Raghilda hidden behind the house could see Gobber leading execution party inside and they could hear what was happening inside the workshop through the back door.

"Where is the beast?" the cold voice of Cutthroat barked.

"Outside with Grumpy," Gobber growled.

Hiccup pulled his head out of sight as Cutthroat's face appeared at Gobber's window, staring out at Groundsplitter.

"I'd prefer it if your dragon was with us," Cutthroat said. "Or he might free the beast."

"Grumpy," Gobber hissed, "spends half the day sleeping."

"It is true that Grump takes an afternoon nap at this time of day," Alvis’s voice said, sounding amused.

"Leave the dragon where it is," Fudge's voice said. "Now then, let's get to the matter at hand. Now we—uh—have to read you the official notice of execution, it. Cutthroat, you're supposed to listen too, that's procedure—"

Cutthroat's face vanished from the window. It was now or never.

"Wait here," Hiccup whispered to Ragnar and Raghilda. "I'll do it."

As Fudge's voice started again, Hiccup darted out from behind the house and very quietly approached Groundsplitter.

" _ It is the decision of the Committee of the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the Whispering Death Groundsplitter, hereafter called the condemned, shall be executed on the sixth of June at sundown— _ "

Carefully, Hiccup raised his hand out to Groundsplitter. Groundsplitter grumbled as he sniffed it, but he rested his snout in Hiccup's outstretched hand all the same. Hiccup began to use his Fire Magic to cut through the chains attached to Groundsplitter.

"… _ sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Cutthroat the Bloody…" _

"Come on, come on," Hiccup said frantically as he tried to cut through the chains like a blowtorch.

"… _ as witnessed below _ . Gobber, you sign here…"

Hiccup managed to cut through the first chain and began to work on the second chain.

"Well, let's get this over with," the reedy voice of the Committee member said from inside Gobber's workshop. "Gobber, perhaps it would be better if you stayed inside—"

"No, I wan' ter be with him—"

Footsteps echoed from within the workshop.

"Break already," Hiccup said desperately.

Hiccup was halfway through the second and last chain. He still needed a few more seconds. He stared in horror as the Gobber's back door began to open.

"Just a minute, please, Cutthroat," came Alvis’s voice. "You and I need to sign, too. And I have a rather long name…"

The footsteps stopped and the door swung back a bit. Hiccup did a silent prayer to Loki just as he cut through the last chain.

The moment he was free, Hiccup coaxed Groundsplitter over to where Ragnar and Raghilda were hiding.

Spotting them, Groundsplitter became excited.  _ "Hatchlings!" _

"Hello Groundsplitter," Raghilda whispered. "We’re playing a bit of a  _ trick _ . Do you think you could let us on your back for a moment?"

At the word "trick", Groundsplitter rose up into the air. He maneuvered his tail so that it was right in front of Raghilda.  _ "Hop on!" _

With an excited, childish sort of grin on her face, Raghilda grabbed onto the tail, and Groundsplitter lifted her into the air and onto his back. He did the same for Hiccup and Ragnar, the latter of whom he placed in front.

"Say Cliff-side," Raghilda said.

"Uh…Cliff-side."

Groundsplitter immediately flew over to the edge of the cliff and lowered himself just enough so that he wouldn't be seen.

"Good to know he still remembers Father’s commands," Raghilda said.

The three godsiblings poked their heads over the cliff and looked at the backs of the Alvis, Gobber, Fudge, the old Committee member and Cutthroat.

They stood in shocked silence.

"Where is it?" the reedy voice of the Committee member said at last. "Where is the beast?"

"It was tied here," the executioner said furiously. "I saw it! Just here!"

"How extraordinary," Alvis said. Once again, there was a note of amusement in his voice.

"Groundsplitter!" Gobber said huskily.

"Someone has clearly cut through the chains; it looks as though they were using Fire Magic," Cutthroat said, examining the chain. "We should search the village, the farms, everywhere—"

"Cutthroat, if Groundsplitter has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on  _ foot _ ?" Alvis asked, still sounding amused. "Search the skies, search beneath the ground itself. Meanwhile, I could do with a mug of coffee. Or perhaps a tankard of mead…Gobber, I believe you have a particularly strong supply?"

"O-o' course, sir," Gobber said, still looking surprised but happy. "Come here Grumpy!"

Grump woke up and hobbled over to Gobber.

"Oh, and Cutthroat? It would appear your services are no longer required, but I thank you for your time," said Alvis before re-entering Gobber's workshop with Gobber and Grump close behind.

They then saw Cutthroat raise his axe and slammed it on the ground in anger.

"That's what I heard!" Raghilda whispered, sounding close to laughter. "A grown man throwing a temper tantrum!"

That was all they needed to see, so they took off, being very careful not to let anyone spot them.

"What now?" Hiccup asked.

"We'll have to wait in Raven's Point until they've gone back to the village. Then we wait until it's safe for another couple of hours…"

They flew over to Raven's Point and landed in the edge of the forest with a great view of the Whomping Willow. Darkness was now falling thickly around them as they wait in the thick trees of the forest.

"There's Astrid!" Hiccup said suddenly.

Two dark figures were sprinting across the lawn, and the former’s shouts to the latter echoed through the still night air.

"Raghilda—No, Amber, your help is  _ not _ necessary—Raggy,  _ go _ —"

The latter shot forward, disappearing beneath the tree. And then they saw two more figures materialize out of nowhere. Hiccup watched himself and Ragnar chasing after Astrid. Then he saw Astrid dive.

"Ah-ha! You couldn’t avoid us forever, _Scabbard_!"

Hiccup wished he could tell her just how wrong she was.

"There's Alvin!" Ragnar said. The great shape of the dog had bounded out from the roots of the Willow. They saw him bowl Hiccup over, and then seized Astrid's leg…

"Looks even worse from here, don’t it?" Hiccup said, watching as Astrid was dragged into the roots. "Ouch—look, I just got walloped by the tree—and so did you, Ragnar—Gods, this is  _ weird _ —"

The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; they could see themselves darting here and there, trying to reach the trunk. And then the tree froze.

"That was Amber pressing the knot," Ragnar said.

"And there we go…" Hiccup muttered. "We're in."

The moment they disappeared, the tree began to move again. Seconds later, they heard footsteps quite close by. Alvis, Cutthroat, Fudge and the old Committee member were making their way up to the village.

"Right after we'd gone down into the passage!" Ragnar said. "If  _ only _ Alvis had come with us…"

"Cutthroat and Fudge would've come too," Raghilda said bitterly. "And I will bet you everything I own that Fudge would've told Cutthroat to murder Father on the spot…"

They watched the four men climb up the hill to Alvis’s house and disappeared from view. For a few minutes the scene was deserted. Then—

"Here comes Johann!" Hiccup said, as they saw another figure sprinting down the stone steps and haring towards the Willow. Hiccup looked up at the sky. Clouds were obscuring the moon completely.

They watched Johann seize a broken branch from the ground and prod the knot on the trunk. The tree stopped fighting, and Johann, too, disappeared into the gap in its roots.

"If he'd only grabbed the Cape," Hiccup said. "It was just lying there…"

He turned to Ragnar.

"Don't even think about," he said, likely knowing what Hiccup was thinking. "We can't be seen."

"How can you stand this?" he asked Ragnar fiercely. "Just standing here and watching it happen?"

"I can't," Ragnar said, looking at Hiccup with a solemn expression that almost perfectly matched his sister’s.

Hiccup shot to his feet. "I'm going to grab the cape!"

"Hiccup,  _ no _ !"

Ragnar seized the back of Hiccup’s vest not a moment too soon—Eydis the Hardworking appeared, making her way to the farms with a large watering can in her hands.

" _ See? _ " Ragnar whispered. " _ See what would have happened? _ We've got to keep out of sight!"

"He  _ gets it, _ Ragnar, shut up."

Barely two minutes later, the mountain doors opened yet again, and Asketill had come charging out of them, running towards the Willow.

Hiccup's fists clenched as they watched Asketill skid to a halt next to the tree, looking around. He grabbed the Cape and held it up.

"Do we have to watch this?" Hiccup asked, resisting the urge to charge up and snatch his dad’s Cape from Asketill’s hands.

"I don't like it any more than you do," Ragnar said, glaring at Asketill. "But we have to keep watching."

Asketill seized the branch Johann had used to freeze the tree, prodded the knot, and vanished from view as he pulled on the Cape.

"So that's it," Raghilda said quietly. "We're all down there…and now we've just got to wait until we come back up again…"

Groundsplitter then lay down on the ground to curled up and fell asleep. Raghilda went to sit beside him, patting his scales gently.

Ragnar then looked at Hiccup with a curious look on his face. "There's something I still don't get…why didn't the Dementors get Alvin? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out…there were so many of them…"

Hiccup explained what he'd seen; how, as the nearest Dementor had lowered its mouth to Hiccup's, a large silver something had come swooping down from the cliff and destroyed about half of the Dementors and forced the others to retreat.

Ragnar's mouth was slightly open by the time Hiccup had finished.

"But what was it?"

"There's only one thing it could have done that, the Blade of Midgard," Hiccup said. "And who ever casted it was powerful if they were able to create a guardian powerful enough to destroy fifty Dementors and forced the others to flee."

"Didn't you see what they looked like?" Ragnar asked eagerly. "Was it one of the teachers?"

"No, I didn't get a good look," Hiccup said. "But my gut is telling me that it wasn't one of the teachers."

"But…didn't the Guardian light them up? Couldn't you see—?"

"Rag, I nearly had the soul sucked out of me, and like I said I didn't get a good look at them," Hiccup said.

"But…you have an idea who it was, don't you," Ragnar said, as if he could read his mind.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Hiccup said. Ragnar simply crossed his arms, waiting for Hiccup’s answer. "I think…I think it was my mum."

Hiccup glanced up at Ragnar and saw that he hadn't moved an inch. Instead he was studying him, as if trying to tell if he was telling the truth or not.

"You're right…I do think you're crazy," Ragnar said. "Hiccup, your mum's—well—she’s  _ dead _ ."

"I know that," Hiccup said quickly. "I just have this feeling…something in my gut is tell me that whoever it was has a connection to me…and I can't think of a lot of people who would save me and Alvin."

Ragnar opened his mouth, about to say something, but apparently thought better of it. He walked over to where Raghilda and Groundsplitter were and sat on the other side of his father’s dragon.

Hiccup stared at the Willow. Savage had reappeared this evening, when everyone had thought he was dead—was it so impossible to believe that his mother could have done the same? Had he been seeing things on the cliff? Was his gut making a fool of him?

The leaves overhead rustled faintly in the breeze. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds. Ragnar and Raghilda sat with their faces turned towards the Willow, waiting. With a huff, Hiccup sat down beside Raghilda.

"Hey Raghilda?" he found himself asking.

Raghilda turned back to him. "Yes?"

"Why did you tell Astrid about Savage?"

Raghilda sighed. "I didn't mean to tell her. You have to understand that. Her knowing before you guys was  _ not _ planned out."

"Then how did she find out?" Ragnar asked.

"It was after Father broke into Gryffindor Tower. I was stunned, I wasn't thinking straight. Astrid asked me what had happened, and everything came pouring out." She let out a humorless laugh. "Doubt I made any godsdamn sense, really. Had to explain it twice for Astrid to actually understand what I was saying. And then two more times to get her to believe me."

She looked at Hiccup. "She wanted to tell you immediately. Nearly went up to the Tower herself to explain what was going on. I held her back. I made her promise that she would keep it a secret. I shouldn't have done that."

Ragnar frowned. "Why not?"

"I thought she could handle keeping the secret. I thought wrong." Raghilda bit her lip. "You wanted to know what her Boggart was, Ragnar? Well, I can tell you, because I saw it. It was Hiccup."

Hiccup jumped, startled. "Me? Why would she be afraid of me?"

"Not you yourself," Raghilda assured him. "The Boggart-you was twisted. It was shouting at her, saying she had betrayed him, that he hated her, and he never wanted to see her again." She swallowed painfully. "Poor Astrid was curled up on the floor, screaming, her hands over her ears, trying to block out the words."

Hiccup sat back, stunned. His mind wandered back to Astrid’s odd behavior earlier (er, later) in the night.

_ "She's waiting for it to sink in," _ he realized suddenly.  _ "She thinks I’ll be mad at her for not telling me." _

"That's what she's afraid of, you know," Raghilda said, breaking Hiccup out of his thoughts. "Losing you."

"Why would that be what she fears most?" Hiccup asked.

"You risk your life on a semi-regular basis," Raghilda replied, tugging on one of her braids. "That's a good enough reason for anyone to be scared. But she's also afraid that you'll abandon her if she gives you a good enough reason to."

"Hiccup would never do that!" Ragnar exclaimed.

"Well, that's the thing," Raghilda said. "It's not that she thinks so little of him. It's that she thinks so little of  _ herself _ . She's convinced herself that if she screws up bad enough, Hiccup’ll decide she isn't worth the hassle."

Hiccup was about to ask where on Midgard Astrid had managed to get such an idea, but then, after over an hour of waiting…

"Here we come," Raghilda said.

The three got to their feet. Groundsplitter raised his head; they had to hold him back to prevent him from joining his old master. They saw Hiccup and Alvin holding Astrid under each arm clambering awkwardly out of the hole in the roots. Then came the unconscious Asketill being lifted in the air by Johann. Next came Ragnar and Raghilda, who were holding Savage at sword point.

They paused for a moment and Hiccup, Ragnar and Alvin stared out at the village.

Hiccup's heart was starting to beat very fast. He glanced up at the sky. Any moment now, that cloud was going to move aside and show the moon…

"Hiccup," Ragnar muttered, as though reading his mind again, "We’ve got to stay put. We mustn't be seen. There's nothing we can do…"

"So we're just going to let Savage escape all over again…" Hiccup said quietly.

"Trust me, there's nothing I'd rather do than have that coward pay for what he's done, but how do you expect us to find a rat  _ in the dark _ ?" Ragnar snapped. "There's nothing we can do! We came back to help my dad. We're not supposed to be doing anything else!"

" _ All right!" _

The moon slid out from behind its cloud. They saw the tiny figures looking towards it. Then they saw movement—

"There goes Johann," Ragnar whispered. "He's transforming—"

"Ragnar!" Hiccup said suddenly. "We've got to move!"

"Oh, for the love of Thor. Hiccup how many times do I have to tell you—"

Thankfully, Raghilda seemed to understand. "Ragnar, Uncle Johann's going to run into Raven's Point,  _ right at us _ !"

Realization dawned on Ragnar.

"Ah, good point," Ragnar said as he climbed back onto Groundsplitter’s back. "We'll have to fly straight over to Thor Beach, but we'll have to stay on the cliff so not to be seen."

Hiccup was fine with that; at least there was a chance he could see his mother.

He and Raghilda got behind Ragnar, and they flew over towards Thor's Beach. As they flew, Hiccup saw that the Dementors were heading towards them.

"Looks like it's showtime," Hiccup said.

They soon landed on the cliff over Thor's Beach, the same cliff where Hiccup saw whoever sent that Guardian to save him.

They looked down from the cliff and saw the Dementors appearing from every direction, gliding over the lake surrounding himself, Ragnar and Alvin. Alvin and Ragnar were already on the ground out cold and Hiccup was creating silvery mist around, but it was extinguished.

"This is horrible for a second time," Ragnar muttered.

"Don't worry, my mum will come," Hiccup said. "She'll create the Guardian."

But nobody came. Hiccup saw that they were now surrounded by the Dementors. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear—but no one was coming to help this time—

"I don't understand," Hiccup said, confused. "She should be appearing right there."

"Hiccup, I don't think anyone's coming," Ragnar said sadly.

Raghilda looked at Hiccup and smiled. "Maybe they’re already here…"

"What do you—"

And then it hit him—he understood. He hadn't seen his mother—he had seen  _ himself _ —

Hiccup walked towards the edge of the cliff and pulled his sword out.

"Hiccup? What are you doing?!" Ragnar yelled, trying to stop him.

Raghilda pulled him backwards. "What he’s supposed to do!"

As the siblings watched, Hiccup tried to select a happy memory. Which one would work best?

Images flashed before his mind: Some of Astrid, some of Ragnar, and a few of Raghilda. The three people who mattered the most to him; two who were standing right behind him, and one who would have if she could.

Suddenly, out of his sword shot, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. He screwed up his eyes, trying to see what it was. He could hardly believe his eyes; it looked exactly like a Night Fury, apart from the fact it was silver instead of black.

The silver Night Fury roared and dived down off the cliff, soaring over the beach with incredible speed. He fired a silvery plasma blast that destroyed a group of Dementors. The Dementors began to fall back, scattering; retreating into the darkness as the silver Night Fury continued to blast them…soon they were gone.

The Guardian turned. It was flying back towards Hiccup. Hiccup just stared at the dragon's large, silver eyes as its fangs retracting back into his gums. And Hiccup realized…

" _ Toothless _ ," he whispered.

But as his trembling fingers stretched towards the creature, it vanished.

" _ What did you do? _ " Ragnar hissed, looking at Hiccup as if he'd fallen from the sky.

"I think I just saved all our lives…" Hiccup said. "It wasn't my mum I saw, it was  _ me _ , but my past self will  _ think _ it was my mum."

"A right paradox," Raghilda said, smiling. "Hiccup, your Guardian…I've never seen anything so incredible!"

"Well, I knew I could do it this time," Hiccup said, rubbing the back of his neck, "because I'd already done it…Does that make sense?"

Raghilda shook her head, letting out one of her rare laughs. "Not really, no."

Ragnar just shook his head. "After today, I'm going to stop trying to figure out Time Magic; the more you think about it, the more it hurts your head. It looks like Asketill’s here."

Together they peered around over the cliff down at the beach. Asketill had regained consciousness. He was conjuring stretchers and lifting the forms of Hiccup, Ragnar and Alvin onto them. Then, axe held in front of him, he moved them away towards the village.

"Right, it's nearly time," Ragnar said tensely, looking at his watch. "We've got about forty-five minutes until Alvis locks the door to the Infirmary."

"Forty-five minutes to rescue Father, smuggle him off the island, and get back into the ward before anyone realizes we're missing…" Raghilda mused. "That…sounds highly improbable. We’ll be fine."

They waited, watching the moving clouds reflected in the lake. Groundsplitter was burrowing underground, no doubt looking for food.

"D'you reckon he's up there yet?" Hiccup said, checking his watch.

"Look!" Raghilda whispered. "Someone's flying over the lake."

Hiccup stared through the darkness. The man was riding a Monstrous Nightmare and seemed to be flying towards the mainland. Something strapped to his back was shining and glinting.

"It’s Cutthroat!" Hiccup said. "The executioner! He's gone to get the Dementors! This is it—I’ll fly Groundsplitter this time—"

Ragnar nodded. He put his hands on Groundsplitter’s back, and Hiccup gave him a leg up before doing the same for Raghilda. Then he heaved himself onto the dragon's back. Hiccup then grabbed hold onto Groundsplitter's spikes.

"Ready?" he whispered to the others. "You'd better hold on to something—"

He then nudged Groundsplitter's sides with his heels.

Groundsplitter soared straight into the dark air. Hiccup gripped his serpent like body with his knees, feeling the gust of wind from his wings behind them. Ragnar, too, was holding onto Groundsplitter's spikes firmly, while Raghilda had decided to hold onto Hiccup instead.

Hiccup urged Groundsplitter forwards. They were gliding quietly towards the plaza…Hiccup pulled Groundsplitter's head back a bit to slow him down. Hiccup was trying to find Alvar's house. Then he found it, a charming little house overlooking the plaza.

"He's there!" Hiccup said, spotting Alvin as they rose up beside the houses top floor window. He reached out, and as Groundsplitter's wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass.

Alvin looked up. Hiccup saw his jaw drop as he looked at him, Ragnar, Raghilda and Groundsplitter. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked.

"How do we get him out?" Hiccup asked.

_ "I’ve got it!" _ Groundsplitter exclaimed; he reared up and blasted the window with a ring of fire.

"Well, that’s one way to open a window," Ragnar muttered.

"Well done, boy!" Raghilda praised, rubbing one of the dragon’s spikes.

_ "Thank you, hatchling, I try." _

"How— _ how _ —?"Alvin said weakly, staring at Groundsplitter. "Johann said that Groundsplitter had been executed…"

"It's a long story," Hiccup said, gripping Groundsplitter firmly to hold him steady. "There's not much time. You've got to get out of here—the Dementors are coming. Cutthroat's gone to get them."

Alvin placed a hand on either side of the window-frame and heaved his head and shoulders out of it. In seconds, he had flung one leg over Groundsplitter's back, who was pleased beyond words to have his old master riding on him once more, and pulled himself behind Ragnar.

"Okay, Groundsplitter!" Hiccup said, as Raghilda tightened her grip on his waist. "Down to the plaza—come on!"

Groundsplitter nodded and flew down to the plaza; Hiccup felt they were lucky there was no one around to see them. Once Groundsplitter landed, Hiccup and Ragnar slid off.

"Alvin, you'd better go, quickly," Hiccup panted, reaching up to help Raghilda off. "They'll be here any moment."

"What happen to your girlfriend? Astrid?" Alvin asked urgently.

Hiccup blushed. "S-She's not—" he began, before Raghilda held up a hand to stop him.

"She's fine, father—her leg is still being mended, but she should be up and about by tomorrow."

"You know, Stoick and Valka would've loved that girl," Alvin said, smirking. "She's a true Valkyrie. Ragnar, you remind me so much of your mother and you are definitely the smartest Viking of your age. And Hiccup—you are truly your father's son…"

"Just go!" Hiccup and Ragnar shouted together.

Alvin glanced down at Raghilda. "Promise you’ll behave?"

Raghilda smirked. "I am your child—I'm not  _ supposed _ to behave."

Alvin nodded, laughing a little. "That’s my girl!"

He looked down at Groundsplitter and patted his head. "Let's go, old friend."

Hiccup and Ragnar jumped back as the enormous dragon rose into the air once more, the wind sending Raghilda’s braids flying…Groundsplitter and his rider became smaller and smaller as the godsiblings gazed after them…then a cloud drifted across the moon…and they were gone.

* * *

**Hurrah!**

**Highlight of chapter: Hiccup using the memory of his three friends to defeat the dementors. I...I may or may not have teared up while writing that bit.**

**Merry Christmas, folks! To celebrate, this week I plan on publishing something I've been working on for quite some time. If you're a Doctor Who fan, I highly suggest checking it out.**

**But in other news! Remember that any and all suggestions you may have for Book Three should be in by New Year's Eve, as that will be the latest I will be able to fit them in. Suggestions for Book Four, however, are now being accepted. Credit is always given.**

**And please leave a comment, click kudos and/or bookmark this book (or the series as a whole), as everyone who does will get a shout-out at the end.**

**Only one chapter left...Still can't believe I've made it this far.**


	23. Terrible Terror Post Again

**Everyone else at Midnight last night: Happy New Year!**

**Me: Good riddance! *chugs fake-wine***

**2018, don't screw us on this...**

*** Incoming story that no one asked for***

**Last Friday night, my dad took me to go see one of my favorite comedians, Gabriel Iglesias, better known as Fluffy. Towards the end of the show he retold one of his classic jokes, the Volkswagon Beetle. Everyone in the audience knew the joke, and said some of it with him. The specific part I'm talking about is this part right here: "Orale".**

**I can't remember what exactly Fluffy said (he wasn't amused), but it sounded mildly sexual. Thus, my not-quite-seventeen year old ass decided to say "That's what she said."**

**Stupid? Yes. But it gets worse.**

**I must have lost control of my vocal chords or something, because even though I was about twelve rows back, and there were thousands of people in the room, all making a bunch of noise…he heard me. He fucking heard me say it. He looked over the crowd and went "Somebody just said ‘that's what she said’."**

**And then my face met my hands and I contemplated death for a while.**

**I know it was me who he heard, because who the fuck else would be stupid enough to say something like that?**

*** Story over***

**(Also that story I promised last week? Well it's not done yet. But it _will_   be done by the end of the month)**

**OK! Ladies and Gentlemen, here it is—the final chapter of Book Three: The Prisoners of Azkaban.**

**Let's do this.**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-three: Terrible Terror Post Again_

* * *

"Hiccup!"

Ragnar was tugging at his sleeve, peering nervously at his watch. "We've got exactly ten minutes to get back to the Infirmary without anybody seeing us—"

"Preferably before Alvis locks the door—" Raghilda added.

"Okay," Hiccup said, at last wrenching his gaze from the sky, "let's go…"

They ran down the path that led to the Infirmary. It was difficult to navigate the village at night, as it looked very different, but Hiccup didn’t dare to use some of his fire magic to light the way. As they turned around a corner, they heard two very unwelcomed voices.

Fudge and Asketill.

The older Vikings were walking down the path ahead of them. With it being so dark, they didn't see them, but any minute they'd be face to face.

Each cursing vividly under their breath, Hiccup and Raghilda quickly grabbed ahold of Ragnar and pulled him behind a nearby house.

"…only hope Alvis’s not going to make things difficult," Asketill was saying. "The Kiss will be performed immediately, won't it Chief?"

"As soon as Cutthroat returns with the Dementors. This whole Alvin affair has been highly embarrassing for everyone involved. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to inform the _Daily Prophet_ that we've got him at long last…I’ve no doubt they'll want to interview you, Asketill…and once young Hiccup is back in his right mind, I expect he'll want to tell the reporters _exactly_ how you saved him and his friends…"

Hiccup clenched his teeth. He caught a glimpse of Asketill’s sickening smirk as he and Fudge passed their hiding place. Their footsteps died away.

The three waited a few moments to make sure the two had really gone, then started to run towards the Infirmary as fast as they could.

"Ragnar—what'll happen—if we don't get back inside—before Alvis locks the door?" Hiccup panted.

"I don't want to think about it!" Ragnar moaned, checking his watch again. "One minute!"

They turned around the next corner and saw the Infirmary. Gobber and Phlegma were standing outside, and Alvis’s head was poking through the door, talking.

"I am going to lock you in," they could hear him saying. "It is five minutes to midnight. Mr Wicket, three turns should do it. Good luck."

Then Gobber and Phlegma turned to see the three of them approach. Phlegma smiled, but Gobber looked baffled; he stared at them and then at the Infirmary door, clearly trying to figure out how they could be in two places at once. Alvis backed out of the room, closed the door and took out a key. Phlegma then tapped him on the shoulder and gestured to Hiccup, Ragnar and Raghilda. Alvis’s wide smile appeared under the long white silver moustache.

"Well?" he said quietly.

"We did it!" Hiccup said breathlessly. "Alvin has gone, on Groundsplitter…"

"Wait, Alvin's escaped and Groundsplitter is with him," Gobber said, looking even more confused. "And how in Thor’s name can the three o’ yeh be in two places at once?"

Phlegma placed a hand on his shoulder and led him away. "I'll explain it to you in the morning."

Alvis chuckled and then beamed at the three.

"Well done. I think—" he listened intently for any sound within the Infirmary. "Yes, I think you've gone, too. Get inside—I'll lock you in—"

Hiccup, Ragnar and Raghilda slipped back inside the healing center, where a confused Astrid sat gazing at the spot where the past versions had disappeared and then back to them.

Raghilda smiled tiredly. "Hello again, chickadee. Did you miss us?"

"But—you were just—how?!" Astrid demanded.

Hiccup and Ragnar glanced at each other, and then at Raghilda, who had rather dramatically thrown herself into the bed beside Astrid’s.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you," Hiccup said at last.

"I second the notion," Raghilda said into the pillow.

Astrid glared at them and crossed her arms. "Try me."

Chuckling weakly, Ragnar had just enough time to tuck the Time-Turner back into his shirt before Bergljot had come down stairs.

"Did I hear the Headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?"

She was in a very bad mood. Hiccup and Ragnar decided to explain their time traveling advantage later. They walked back to their beds and accepted the chocolate that Bergljot gave them. Bergljot stood over them, making sure they ate it and didn’t sneak any to Raghilda (Whose protest of "Ma’am I don’t even like chocolate" was strictly ignored). But Hiccup could hardly swallow. He, Ragnar and Raghilda were waiting, listening, their nerves jangling…And then, at last, they heard a distant roar of fury echoing outside.

"What was that?" Bergljot said in alarm, dropping the pieces of chocolate that had been in her hand.

Now they could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Bergljot was staring at the door.

"Really—they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?"

She started forwards, but Raghilda called out, "I wouldn't get so close to the door, ma'am; you might get hit…"

Hiccup was trying to hear the voices were saying. They were drawing nearer—

"He must have blasted the window and used Teleportation Magic, Asketill; we should have left somebody in the room with him. By Odin, when this gets out—"

"HE DIDN'T TELEPORT! Asketill roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T USE TELEPORTATION MAGIC ON THIS ISLAND! AND WE DISARMED HIM! ONLY SOMEONE WITH FIRE MAGIC COULD HAVE—THAT'S IT! THIS MUST BE HADDOCK'S DOING! HIM AND ALVIN’S LITTLE BRATS MUST HAVE SET HIM FREE!"

"Asketill—be reasonable—Hiccup and Miss Harkstow have been locked up—"

BAM.

The door of the Infirmary burst open.

Fudge, Asketill, Phlegma, Gobber, and Alvis all came striding into the room. Alvis alone looked calm. Indeed, the Headmaster looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared humiliated and angry. But Phlegma and Gobber were busily holding back Asketill, who was beside himself.

"OUT WITH IT, YOU THREE!" he bellowed, trying to get his hands around Hiccup's throat. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"Honestly, Asketill!" Bergljot shrieked, helping Phlegma and Gobber with holding Asketill back as Raghilda took a protective stance in front of Hiccup. "Control yourself!"

"See here, Asketill, be reasonable," Fudge said. "This door's been locked, we just saw—"

"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Asketill howled, pointing at Hiccup, Raghilda and Ragnar each in turn. His face was horribly twisted; spit was flying from his mouth.

"Calm yourself, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW HADDOCK! AND YOU DON'T KNOW ALVIN’S BRATS, ESPECIALLY NOT HIS DAUGHTER!" Asketill shrieked. "THEY DID IT, I KNOW THEY DID IT, THE GIRL GOT THEM TO—"

"That will do, Asketill," Alvis said quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the Infirmary ten minutes ago. My dear Bergljot, have any of these three students left their beds?"

"Of course they haven’t!" Bergljot said, bristling in indignation. "I've been with them ever since you left!"

"Well, there you have it, Asketill," Alvis said calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that these three are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."

"Besides, the scorch marks on the windows suggest a dragon," Gobber said. "If I had to guess, I'd say Alvin's old dragon Groundsplitter freed him."

"Then it must have been _Alvin_ who freed the Whispering Death," Fudge said, his eyes widening in horror.

"It would seem so, yes," Alvis agreed.

"It would hardly surprise me that father would want to spare Groundsplitter such a horrid fate," Raghilda added, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He was like family to him."

Asketill stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Alvis, whose eyes were twinkling, to Phlegma, Gobber and Bergljot, who'd released him. Finally, his gaze settled on Raghilda, who stared back at him calmly, her face the picture of innocence. He whirled about, cape swishing behind him, and stormed out of the Infirmary.

"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," Fudge said, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him, if I were you, Alvis."

"Oh, he's not unbalanced," Raghilda said quietly, the innocent look still lingering. "He’s merely suffered a severe disappointment."

"He's not the only one!" Fudge puffed. "The _Daily Prophet's_ going to have an absolute field day with this one! We had Alvin cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! And now he's reunited with his Whispering Death, that was doing to executed on the same day! I'm going to be a laughing stock!"

Raghilda’s hands clenched into fists, but she forced a smile. "If it's any consolation, you're handling it far better than he did."

The Chief sighed, as though that didn’t make him feel any better. "Well…I'd better go and notify the Ministry…"

"And the Dementors?" Alvis said. "They'll be removed from the academy, I trust?"

"Oh, yes, they'll have to go," Fudge said, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. "Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent boy…I don’t know what’s _wrong_ with them…Rest assured, I'll have them packed off back to Azkaban before dawn. But we'll need something else to guard the island…"

"Oh, I think I can handle that," Gobber said eagerly.

He, Alvis, Phlegma and Fudge left the Infirmary. Bergljot hurried over to the door and locked it again. Muttering crossly to herself, she headed back upstairs to her room.

Astrid, meanwhile, was glaring at the other three with a fixed expression. "Well…explain…now!"

Hiccup, Ragnar and Raghilda all looked at each other.

"Well I'm not doing it," Raghilda said finally. "Personally, I think I've done more than enough talking for one night."

"Same here," Hiccup said, helping himself to some more chocolate.

"Well then, Ragnar, if you could be a dear..."

Ragnar rolled his eyes, but he took a deep breath and began to reiterate the tale.

* * *

When Hiccup, Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda left the Infirmary at noon the next day, it was to find an almost deserted fort. The sweltering heat and the end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Berksmeade visit. Neither Astrid nor Ragnar felt like going, however, so they, Hiccup and Raghilda wandered the village, still talking about the extraordinary events of the previous night, and wondering where Alvin and Groundsplitter were now. Sitting down on Thor's beach, watching Scauldrons appear and disappear in the lake, Hiccup lost the thread of the conversation as he looked up at the cliff. The Night Fury had soared towards him from there just last night…

"Thought I might find yeh four here," a voice said.

They turned around and saw Gobber hobbling his way towards them with a big smile on his face. Raghilda leapt to her feet and hurried over to him, giving him a hug.

"I just wanted ter thank yeh fer save Alvin and Groundsplitter," Gobber said, returning the hug.

"It was no problem," Ragnar said.

"Yeah," Hiccup agreed.

"Well, things are goin' ter be quieter around here, with Johann gone—"

Hiccup gasped. _"What?"_

"Uncle Johann is leaving?" Raghilda asked.

"Oh, I guess yeh haven' heard?" Gobber said; his smile faded a little. "Uh—Asketill told all the Slytherins this mornin'…I thought everyone would know by now…Johann's packin' right now, o' course."

"He's _packing_?" Hiccup said, alarmed. "Why?"

"Leavin', isn' he?" Gobber said sadly. "He resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can' risk it happenin' again."

Hiccup scrambled to his feet.

"I'm going to see him," he said to Astrid and Ragnar.

"But if he's resigned—"

"—doesn't sound like there's anything we can do—"

"I don't care. I still want to see him. I'll meet you back here."

He took Raghilda by the arm, and together the two godsiblings ran in the direction of Johann’s house.

* * *

The front door was open. Johann had already packed most of his things; the Grindylow’s tank stood empty beside his battered trunk, which was open and nearly full. Johann was bending over on his desk, and only looked up when Hiccup knocked on the door.

"I saw you two coming," Johann said, smiling softly. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder's Map.

"We just saw Uncle Gobber," Raghilda said, not even out of breath. "And he said you had resigned. Is there no way we can change your mind?"

"I'm afraid there isn't, Raghilda," Johann sighed. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

" _Why?_ " Hiccup said. "The Dragon Ministry doesn’t think you were helping Alvin, do they?"

Johann crossed to the door and closed it behind them.

"No. Alvis managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." He sighed again. "That was the final straw for Asketill. I think the loss of the Order of Haddock hit him hard. So he—uh— _accidentally_ let slip that I'm a werewolf to his students this morning at breakfast."

"You're not leaving just because of that!" Hiccup said.

Johann smiled wryly.

"Come this time tomorrow, hordes of Terrible Terrors will start arriving from parents—they will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Hiccup. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you…that can never happen again."

"You're the best Combat Arts teacher we've ever had!" Hiccup said.

"Please, Uncle Johann, don't go!" Raghilda pleaded.

Johann shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers and packing his strange items. Then, while Hiccup was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Johann said, "From what the Headmaster, Gobber and Phlegma told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Hiccup. If I'm proud of anything, it's how much you've learned. Tell me about your Guardian."

"How d'you know about that?" Hiccup asked, momentarily distracted.

"Why, what else could have driven the Dementors back?"

Hiccup told Johann what happened. When he'd finished, Johann was smiling again. He threw his last few books into his trunk, closed the desk drawers and turned to look at Hiccup.

"Here—I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Hiccup back the Invisibility Cape. "And…" he hesitated, and then handed over the Marauder's Map as well, "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel any guilt about giving you this back. It's of no use to me, and I daresay the two of you, Astrid and Ragnar will find many uses for it."

Hiccup took the map and grinned in spite of himself.

"You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Forge and Fangs would've wanted to lure me out of the academy…you said they'd have thought it was funny."

"And so we would have done," Johann said, now reaching down to close the trunk. "I have no hesitation whatsoever in saying that Stoick would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the island. And your mother was always adventurous; I can't tell you the number of times we saw her sneak into Raven's Point to see wild dragons and wood-elves."

Raghilda managed a small smile. "Father told me about that. He said Uncle Stoick used to follow her there and watch from a distance, called him a lovesick stalker."

Johann laughed. "Gods, I had forgotten about that!"

There was a knock on the door. Hiccup hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cape into his vest pocket.

It was Alvis. He didn't look surprised to see Hiccup and Raghilda there.

"Your Thunderdrum, Thornado, and ship is ready, Johann," he said.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Johann picked up his old trunk and the empty Grindylow tank.

"Well—goodbye, you two," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the docks; I can manage…"

Hiccup had the impression that Johann wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

"Goodbye, then, Johann," Alvis said soberly. Johann shifted the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Alvis could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Hiccup and Raghilda, and a swift smile, Johann left the house.

Hiccup sat down in his vacated chair, staring glumly at the floor. He heard the door close and looked up. Alvis was still there.

"Why so miserable, Hiccup?" he said quietly. "You should be very proud of yourself after last night."

"It didn't make any difference," Hiccup said bitterly. "Savage got away."

"Didn't make any difference?" Alvis said quietly. "It made all the difference in the world, Hiccup. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate, and passed the first test of many."

At those words Hiccup suddenly remembered what Gothi had said to him about last night being his first trial, and Raghilda’s ominous prediction.

"Uh, sir—did—did Gothi tell you about—"

"Raghilda’s prediction yesterday?" Alvis finished. "Yes, she informed me…Your first prophecy, wasn't it Raghilda?"

"Yes, it was. I imagine that was why I collapsed." There was a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"Of course, and you're feeling alright?"

"Alright’s a bit of a stretch."

"But—" Hiccup looked at them, aghast. How could they take this so calmly? "But—I stopped Alvin and Johann killing Savage! That makes it _my_ fault if Drago Bludvist comes back!"

"It does not," Alvis said quietly. "Hasn't your experience with the Time-Turner taught you anything, Hiccup? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed…Every Völva, bless them, can testify to that. You did a very noble thing, in saving Savage's life."

"But if he helps bring Drago Bludvist back to power—!"

"Savage owes his life to you. You have sent Drago a deputy who is in your debt. When one Viking saves another Viking's life, it creates a certain bond between them…and I'm much mistaken if Drago wants his servant to be in the debt of Hiccup Haddock."

"I don't want a bond with Savage!" Hiccup exclaimed. "He betrayed my parents! He attacked Raghilda!"

Raghilda placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hiccup…As much as I wish the bond could be undone, doing so would be foolish. This is magic at its deepest, it's most impenetrable…But no matter how dark this situation may seem, I promise you that the time will come when you will not regret that you saved a traitor’s life."

Hiccup couldn't imagine when that would be. Alvis looked as though he knew what Hiccup was thinking.

"I knew your father and mother very well, both at Berk and later on, Hiccup," he said gently. "They would have saved Savage too, I am sure of it."

Hiccup looked up at him. Alvis wouldn't laugh—he could tell Alvis…

"Last night…I thought it was my mum who'd conjured my Guardian. I mean, when I saw myself on the cliff…I didn't get a good look…but my gut told me that it was her."

"Understandable," Alvis said softly. "You want to meet your mother in person, and there's nothing silly about that…And I expect you'll soon tire of hearing this, but you _do_ look a lot like your mother. It was an easy mistake to make."

Hiccup shook his head.

"It was stupid, thinking it was her," he muttered. "I mean, I knew she was dead, but..."

"You think the dead we have loved ever truly leave us? You think we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father and mother are alive in you, Hiccup, and they show themselves most plainly when you have need of them. How else could you have produced that _particular_ Guardian?"

It took a moment for Hiccup to realize what Alvis was implying.

"Alvin told me all about how they became Animagi last night," Alvis went on, smiling. "An extraordinary achievement—not least, keeping it quiet from me. Though I suppose it should have been obvious, for who else could have taught young Raghilda but another Animagus? And then I remembered the most unusual form your Guardian took, when it charged Mr Jorgenson down at your Dragon Racing match against Ravenclaw. So you did see your mother last night, along with your father…you found them inside yourself."

And Alvis left the house, leaving Hiccup to his very confused thoughts.

* * *

Nobody at Berk knew the truth of what happened the night that Alvin, Groundsplitter and Savage had vanished except Raghilda, Hiccup, Astrid, Ragnar, Gobber, Phlegma and Alvis. As the end of term approached, Hiccup heard many different theories about what had really happened, but none of them came close to the truth.

Snotlout was furious about Groundsplitter. He refused to believe that Alvin freed him, and was convinced that Gobber had found a way of smuggling the Whispering Death to safety, and seemed outraged that he and his father had been outwitted by a Forge Master. Askeladden, meanwhile, had a lot to say on the subject of Alvin's escape.

"If I manage to get into the Ministry, I'll have a lot of proposals to make about the Magical Law Enforcement!" he told the only person who would at least pretend to listen—his girlfriend, Clearwater.

Though the weather was perfect, though the atmosphere was so cheerful, though he knew that they had achieved the near impossible in helping Alvin to freedom, Hiccup had never approached the end of an academy year in worse spirits.

He certainly wasn't the only one who was sorry to see Johann go. The whole of Hiccup's Combat Arts class was miserable about his resignation.

"Wonder what they'll give us next year?" Wartihog said gloomily.

"Maybe a dark-elf," Tuffnut suggested hopefully.

"Or an orc," Ruffnut added eagerly.

It wasn't only Johann's departure that was weighing on Hiccup's mind. He couldn't help thinking a lot about Raghilda’s prediction. He kept wondering where Savage was now, whether he had sought sanctuary with Drago yet.

But the thing that was lowering Hiccup's spirits most of all was the prospect of returning to the Dalvors. For maybe half an hour, a glorious half-hour, he had believed he would be living with Ragnar, Raghilda and their parents from now on…it would have been the next best thing to having his own family back. And while no news of Alvin was definitely good news, because it meant he had successfully gone into hiding, Hiccup couldn't help feeling miserable when he thought of the home he might have had, and the fact that it was now impossible.

On the last day of term, however, Raghilda had a shocking announcement; she would be living with Hiccup over the summer at Privet Drive.

"It's already been arranged," she told him when he tried to protest. "Alvis agreed that someone ought to stay with you over the summer, keep you sane and whatnot. We can't afford to have any more incidents like your Aunt Olga, after all."

"What about your mother?" Hiccup asked. "Doesn’t she want…"

Raghilda was already shaking her head. "She does, but…I can't do that to her. Too many questions would be asked if I suddenly showed up out of the blue, after over a decade of everyone on the street thinking that I died in an accident…" she shook herself and smiled slightly, though Hiccup could tell it was fake. "It will be easier this way, for all of us."

Hiccup wasn’t sure about that, but he didn't push any further.

The exam results came out an hour later. Hiccup, Raghilda, Astrid and Ragnar had passed every subject, with Raghilda being top of the class in Soothsaying thanks to her prophecy. Hiccup was amazed that he had gotten through Potions. He had a shrewd suspicion that Alvis had stepped in to stop Asketill failing him on purpose.

Asketill’s behavior towards Hiccup over the past week had been very alarming. Hiccup wouldn't have thought it possible that Asketill’s dislike for him could increase, but it certainly had. His dislike for Ragnar and Raghilda had also increased dramatically. A muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of Asketill’s thin mouth every time he looked at the three of them, and he was constantly flexing his fingers, as though itching to place them around one of their throats.

Askeladden had got his top-grade AVALs and his new title of "the Strict" ("Oh so fitting" the girls had decided in unison); Double and Trouble, meanwhile, had scraped a handful of VALs each. Gryffindor house, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Dragon Racing Cup, had won the House Championship for the third year running. This meant that the end-of-term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated. Even Hiccup managed to forget about the journey back to the Dalvors next day as he ate, drank, talked and laughed with the rest.

* * *

As the Berk Express pulled out of the station next morning, Ragnar gave Hiccup and Astrid some surprising news.

"I went to see Phlegma this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies."

"But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!" Astrid said.

"I know," Ragnar sighed. "But I can't _stand_ another year like this one. That Time-Turner was driving me crazy. So I’ve turned it in. Without Muggle Studies and Soothsaying, I'll be able to have a normal timetable again."

"I still can't _believe_ you didn't tell us about it," Astrid said grumpily. "We're supposed to be your _friends_."

"I promised I wouldn't tell _anyone_ ," Ragnar said severely. "And you kept the fact that you knew the truth about Savage a secret."

"That was different!"

Ragnar rolled his eyes and looked at Hiccup, who was watching Berk disappear from view behind a mountain. Two whole months before he'd see it again…

"Oh, cheer up, Hiccup!" Ragnar said sadly. "If it's any contribution, I'm bummed that you won't be living with me as well."

"Yeah, but you don't have to spend the holidays with the Dalvors," Hiccup said.

Raghilda took his hand and leaned her head onto his shoulder. "We'll be alright, Hiccup."

"I wish I shared your confidence."

"You could come and stay with us," Astrid suggested. "I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, and then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now—"

Raghilda bit down on her knuckle, which Hiccup had learned was her way of trying not to laugh.

"A _telephone_ , Astrid," Ragnar said, smiling a bit. "Honestly, maybe _you_ should take Muggle Studies next year…"

Astrid ignored him.

"It's the Dragon Racing World Cup this summer! How about it, Hiccup? You and Raghilda come and stay, and we'll go see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

This proposal had the effect of cheering Hiccup up a great deal.

"Yeah…I bet the Dalvors'd be glad to let me come… especially after what I did to Aunt Olga…"

Feeling considerably more cheerful, Hiccup joined Astrid and Ragnar in several games of Exploding Snap, and when the Valkyrie with the tea trolley arrived, he bought himself and Raghilda a very large lunch, though nothing with chocolate in it.

But it was late in the afternoon before the thing that made him truly happy turned up…

"Hiccup," Ragnar said suddenly, peering over his shoulder. "What's that thing outside your window?"

Hiccup turned to look outside. It was an aqua blue Terrible Terror with a letter tied around its leg.

 _"Hi! Hi! Hi!"_ it shrieked. _"Can I come in, please?"_

Hiccup quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm and let it land. He brought it inside. Hiccup then removed the letter from its leg and joined with Sharpshot, Blood-Spatter, Amber and Amethyst, all of whom began to look over the newcomer curiously.

Hiccup looked at the letter and saw it was addressed to him and Ragnar. He ripped open the letter and shouted, "It's from Alvin!"

"What?" Astrid and Ragnar said.

Raghilda beamed. "Well don’t just sit there—read it aloud!"

_Dear Hiccup and Ragnar,_

_I hope this finds you two before Hiccup reaches his aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to Terrible Terror post…don’t really care, either, but that’s beside the point._

_Groundsplitter and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about the Terrible Terror’s reliability, but he was the best I could find on short notice, and he seemed eager enough for the job._

_Raghilda’s informed me that the Dementors are still on the lookout, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I’m planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Berk, so that the security on the island will be lifted._

_There is something I never got around to telling you two during our brief meeting. I was the one who sent the forge kit and the Firebolt—_

"Ha!" Ragnar said triumphantly. "See! I _told_ you it was from him!"

"Yes, but he hadn't bewitched it, had he?" Astrid said as the aqua blue Terrible Terror snuggled up to her in an affectionate way.

_Amber took the orders to the Terrible Terror Office for me. I used both your names but told them to take the gold from Gringotts vault number seven hundred and eleven—my own. Please consider them as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your father and godfather._

_I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you two and Kelda. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of the three of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me may have alarmed you._

_I am enclosing something else for you, Hiccup, which I think will make your next year at Berk more enjoyable._

_If ever you two need me, send word. Your Terrible Terrors will find me._

_I'll write again soon, I promise._

_Alvin_

Hiccup looked inside the envelope eagerly. Sure enough, there was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and suddenly felt warm and content, as though he'd just swallowed a bottle of hot Butterbeer in one go.

_I, Alvin the Trusting, father of Raghilda Harkstow and godfather of Hiccup Haddock, hereby give them permission to visit Berksmeade on weekends._

"That'll be good enough for Phlegma!" Hiccup said happily. He looked back at Alvin's letter.

"Hang on, there's a PS…"

_I thought your friend Astrid might like to keep this Terrible Terror, as it's kinda my fault she no longer has a rat._

Astrid's eyes widened. The Terrible Terror purred loudly in her lap.

"Keep him?" she said uncertainly. She looked closely at the Terrible Terror for a moment, then, to Hiccup and Ragnar's great surprise, she held him out for Amber to sniff.

"What d'you reckon?" Astrid asked the Terrible Terror. "Definitely a Terrible Terror?"

Amber purred. _"Definitely a Terrible Terror."_

"That settles it," Astrid said happily. "He's mine."

Hiccup read and re-read the letter from Alvin all the way back into King's Cross Station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Astrid, Ragnar and Raghilda stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. They had to go in pairs of two; Astrid and Ragnar first, then him and Raghilda.

Hiccup spotted Uncle Björn at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr and Miss Hofferson, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Hofferson hugged Hiccup in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed to have been confirmed.

"And this is Raghilda, I assume?" Mrs. Hofferson said, gesturing to Raghilda, who smiled and curtsied.

"A pleasure to meet you, Madam," she said. "Astrid has told me such lovely things about you."

Mrs. Hofferson looked surprised, yet delighted. "Goodness, such wonderful manners!"

"Thank you Madam."

"Don’t let her fool you, mum," Double warned. "She isn’t as innocent as she appears."

Trouble nodded, snickering. "Behind that sweet little smile lurks a creature of utter chaos."

Mrs. Hofferson glared at her sons, but Raghilda merely chuckled. "Thank you, gentlemen, I’ll be sure to keep in touch."

She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss them both on the cheek, then turned and did the same to Astrid, who laughed and hugged her.

"Positive you'll be alright, Raggy?" she asked as she pulled away.

Raghilda nodded, chuckling again. "I'm not as delicate as I appear, chickadee; there’s no need for concern."

"I can't help it," Astrid said. "You're like a sister to me. A little sister that I need to keep an eye on."

Raghilda raised an eyebrow. "Astrid, I'm seven months older than you…Helheim, I'm the oldest of the four of us."

"Raghilda, we're twins," Ragnar pointed out.

"I'm older," she replied.

"You are not."

"Am too."

"How much?"

"Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Ragnar rolled his eyes, but he was grinning.

Next thing Hiccup knew, Ms. Wicket had appeared; she rushed forward and enveloped both of her children in a hug. Raghilda tensed, clearly startled, but she quickly relaxed and returned the embrace.

"Write at least once a week," Ms. Wicket said.

"I could write a short story everyday, if that's what yeh want," Raghilda said, her accent making a brief appearance. "I’ll have plenty of material where I’m going."

Ms. Wicket let out a shaky laugh as she pulled away. "Please do."

"I've got a lot to tell you, Mum," Ragnar said, and Hiccup gave him a hug as well, pressing Alvin's letter into his hand.

"See you soon, brother," Hiccup whispered, and Ragnar smiled cheerfully.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Astrid yelled after Hiccup, as he bid her and Ragnar goodbye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Sharpshot and Blood-spatter's cage towards Uncle Björn, who greeted him in the usual fashion.

"What's that?" he snarled, staring at the piece of parchment in his hand. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another—"

"Oh, you won't have to worry about stuff like that anymore," Raghilda said as she arrived at Hiccup’s side. "My father will able to handle it."

Uncle Björn stared down at her in surprise. "Who in the name of Thor are _you_?"

"Raghilda Harkstow," she said, holding out her hand as though she expected him to shake it. "I’m Hiccup’s godsister."

"His godsister?" Uncle Björn spluttered. "He hasn't got a godsister!"

"Yes, he does," she said, a sardonic smile appearing on her face. "And on the orders of Alvis the Noble, the Headmaster of Berk, I am to live with him over the summer holidays."

"The Helheim you are!" the man snarled. "Expecting me to take in a ten year old girl; they’re out of their minds—"

 _"Actually_ , Björn, I’m nearly fifteen," Raghilda cut in, the mocking smile turning a little icy. "And make no mistake, I know _exactly_ how you and your family have treated Hiccup. One way or another, I stay with him. I will sleep on the floor o’ his room if I have to, but as long as he lives under yer roof, so will I."

"And before you refuse her," Hiccup said before Uncle Björn could respond, "You should probably hear about her father. He was my mum and dad's best friend, and he's also the dad of one of _my_ best friends, Raghilda’s twin brother. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of Viking prison and he's on the run. He’ll want to keep in touch with us, though…keep up with our news…check that we’re happy…Oh, did I mention that he was the one who raised Raghilda?"

And grinning broadly at the look of sheer horror on Uncle Björn's face, Hiccup and Raghilda set off towards the station exit at a run, their dragons rattling along in front of them, for what looked like the best summer of their entire lives.

* * *

***blows nose into tissue***

**Highlight of chapter: The ending.**

**Before we get to the shout-outs, I'd like to take this opportunity to say a special thanks to my editor, my best friend who I roped into helping me with this. We had some ups and downs getting this book done (her often being busy), but I know for a fact that it never would have happened at all if it wasn't for her.**

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**Coming January 15th... Book Four: The Goblet of Fire**

_**As his fourth year at the Berk Dragon Academy for Vikings and Valkyries approaches, all Hiccup Haddock wants is for it to be uneventful—nothing at all like his first three years. Alas, fate appears to have other plans.** _

_**For the first time in years, Berk is hosting Thawfest, an ancient tournament consisting of three dangerous tasks. Two other schools are also participating, exposing the students of Berk to new people and new ways of learning.** _

_**Hiccup has no interest in entering the tournament, but when the champions are selected, his name is called. He has no choice—he must participate.** _


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